Glimpses of Dawn
by Ellesemera
Summary: As Hermione struggles to come to terms with her devastating marriage, she finds there are paths that would lead her further into darkness and oblivion. Caught in the angst and drama between Tom Riddle and her Potions master, she struggles at every step..post marriage law fic. Post war/ canon compliant to a certain exten. Time Travel. dark
1. Chapter 1 Sorrow

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

Chapter 1.

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**Silly how I reminisce the small details of our past. You are gone. I stayed...**

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It was midnight. Rain splattered the castle walls and battlements in thick sheets. The castle's inmates slept uncomfortable sleep, huddled under their quilts their dreams wracked by nightmares. To what a piteous state the magnificent testament to magic had been reduced. The Astronomy Tower lay in shambles. Few were willing to rebuild what their naïve passivity had destroyed. The courtyard that had been destroyed in the final battle lay patched and frayed post repair. The torn down walls stood out as ugly reminders of the not so far bygone war. War. One word. Monosyllabic. For something so grotesque. How ironic.

Few had returned for the academic year following the Last Battle. Few had lived to return. As population in the magical community dwindled, the ministry had been forced to pass the marriage bill. It enunciated the regulation of marriages between witches and wizards of differing heritages to minimise the probability of squib births and weak magical beings. The ministry itself made the betrothal agreements, pairing up the most magically compatible individuals, placing them under fertility charms and such. It seemed barbaric. Inhuman. To those who had survived, this was another predicament that their lives had been catapulted into after the war. But at least it did not involve life threatening situations. Or megalomaniac mass murderers on loose.

_Some reprieve indeed_, she snorted. From the vantage point of her bedroom window, she looked over the vast expanse of the Forbidden Forest. The stars seemed reluctant to adorn the sky. So few showed their faces to the world below. So few. The grounds were deserted. They were, after all, the graveyard without graves. _Oh Ron_, she whispered to herself. Tears threatened to overflow the barrier of her eyelids. She clutched at the soft linen sheets in order to control herself. A lone tear slid down her cheek. _No! It is done, mourning would not bring him back! I must be strong_, she admonished herself. But the pain in her chest would not recede. Her entire being was overwhelmed with a sense of loss. Sitting on the right side of the wide canopied bed decorated with emerald jewels, trying to compose herself, she reached for the bed side table. She had tried, oh she had tried ever so hard. Her thin scarred fingers espied the tiny oval box in the uppermost drawer. Her eyes closed, as if to retreat from the reality that had so subdued her brave spirit, and she drew the box to her lap. Still unseeing, she opened its lid. Inside lay a beautiful silver locket. Her fingers stroked the silver chain gently. A serene smile spread over her tear stained face. Her fingers still stroked the silver locket in gentle circular motions. Rhythmic. Soft. Gentle.

_She was sitting in the middle of an orchard. The flowers seemed lovelier than she had ever seen them. Oh the multitudes of roses, lovely lavenders, lithe tulips… She could weep from joy… It had been long since her mind had been unencumbered by worry and fear. Mortal fear. But now, at the end of the dark years, she could rest. He would stop by, soon. She smiled to herself. She was at peace with the world._

_A slight sound behind her interrupted her musings. Yes, he had come. She grinned to herself. His clumsiness always announced his arrival. But she could pretend. Yes, she pretended never having heard his stealthy footsteps. When he stood behind her, she let out a soft breath. Bathing in the scent of his being, she felt fulfilled. Complete. Yes, she was at peace with the world. _

"_Boo!" He suddenly shouted. She pretended to have been surprised. His face was set into an expression of satisfaction as he realised he had accomplished his mission. His eyes shone with genuine pleasure that was so reminiscent of an innocent child. He was lucky enough to have retained his vitality in the aftermath of the war. _

"_Hermione…" he spoke softly. His flaming red hair caught her eye. It was quite unkempt. Talk of growing up, she looked at him, amused._

"_I have something for you…" he hesitated, "… It… isn't much, I … I truly want you to have this… someday, soon… I will be able … perhaps… to give you what you truly deserve…" he looked down at his shoes, dawdling, dreading her pronouncement, perhaps._

_She stared at the oval box in his hand. A sudden warmth washed over her as she understood the reason for his hesitation. She took it from his hand an opened it. Inside lay the most beautiful silver locket. She looked up at his face and smiled. His face, drawn in consternation, relaxed somewhat at this. She hated his self-doubt. After all they had been through, it shouldn't be like this._

"_I will cherish it… Ron... For as long as I live…It is beautiful…" She whispered in his ear, drawing him into a crushing embrace. A huge grin broke out on his face at her statement. He really was adorable._

"_Ouch! Control yourself woman…! You'll break my bones…. Aaaarghhh….." he yelped as she whacked him on the head. The skyline was darkening._

"Daydreaming … _love_?" his silky voice taunted her out of her reverie. Her eyes fluttered open as she tried to hide her panic. Failing, ever so slightly, by the increased wideness in her eyes, she knew she had been caught. How she loathed this man, this horrible excuse for a husband who had made her life miserable. She had tried to move on. She was smart and did not wish to linger on self-pity and ceaseless mourning. But this man, oh the hateful creature, demented by his past and present did everything in his power to trap her in her misery. He had no compassion for her, no feeling, just scathing remarks and burning insinuations at some times and simple cold indifference at others. He hated this farce of a marriage as much as she did, she was sure of it, but that did not restrain him being unpleasant and downright bastardly. He was one reason why she couldn't heal. He had nothing to do with her, felt no remorse for his actions and generally ignored her existence. Yet, being the master of manipulation, he kept her trapped in the dark recesses of her own mind. Only, those ravines of her mind were filled with memories of hope, joy and light. Oh he hated her and drew pleasure from her pain. Being the haunted man that he was, he could not bear to see her, anyone happy. Especially not the ones in close proximity to him.

"I… I was just…'' she faltered mid-sentence and looked up to see disdain dripping from the slight curve of his lips. It made her cringe, the brave Hermione retreated into the darkness encased safety of her mind. She took a deep breath and looked down at the sheets, hoping that he would leave without another word.

"Just… ah… bemoaning the _loss_ of a _loved_ one, yes?" he supplied, sneering in sarcasm. "You. Do get away from my sight this instant. I would be receiving company in an hour. Stay away. Stay silent." He spat as he turned on his heel and moved towards the door. You. This was how he always addressed her. Ever since their abominable marriage, she had had to relinquish her maiden name. It was customary in the wizarding world. He would not refer to her as Hermione or Mrs. Snape. No, it would be 'You'. Clean. To the point. Unfamiliar. Cold.

She would not admit it, but she was intimidated by him. She feared him. She feared his indifference, his lack of feeling and above all she feared his temper. Only once had she been on the receiving end of his wrath and she had no desire to inflict such agony upon herself again. Not that he had hurt her physically. No. His bitter words had run through her heart like a dagger. And around her the walls had cracked and the furniture lay strewn once he was done. He was a powerful wizard.

She wiped the fresh bout of tears that had begun running down her face and clutched the locket closer to her chest. '_I am sorry Ron…, for you…, for me…, for everyone'_, she whispered. Replacing the jewel in its original case, she slid over the sheets and stood up on the carpet. Straightening her robes, she moved towards the left door which led into her study. She didn't understand what business he could have with others in their bedroom. Usually, he let her stay in and was content as long as she didn't venture out into the sitting room. Sighing, she grabbed the knob and turned it. The study room that she had decorated for herself was her sole retreat. Lined with bookshelves on all sides and freshly picked roses that the house-elf brought every day, the room was the only haven for her. Away from the brooding, disdainful eyes of her husband, she could truly be herself. He would not encroach upon this territory of hers, she knew. He had given her his word. Settling down in one of the plush burgundy sofas, she began to read. The book was titled _The Dark Descent_. She had been perusing it for a while now to better understand the many complexities of the dementia potion that they were studying in class. It was a fascinating read. The more she delved into it, the more intriguing it became. She would finish it soon, she knew. And then there would be no escape. No escape from the world.

A slight sound of the door opening caused her to look up_. No, it wasn't her study door. Perhaps the bedroom door. Did that mean his visitor had arrived? Perhaps_. And then she heard it. The soft giggle of an enamoured female. Slow whispers. Gentle caresses.

She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat and turned away from the door. Settling in the bay window, she looked out to gaze at the dark sky. There were no tears this time. Mere pain. Gut wrenching, searing pain that had no physical stimulus.

_Get a grip, Hermione. It isn't a real marriage. No sense being offended by his actions. Stop, stop this instant_, she tried to reason with herself. She failed miserably. She didn't love him. No. Quite the contrary. Yet she honoured the marital vows. She stayed faithful… _To what? The slime who doesn't care one bit whether you live or die? The wretched bastard who lives to see you hurt_, she thought furiously. Angry sobs wracked her petite frame. _Oh Ron…_, _thrice, thrice I have cried today._

Outside the world carried on. It healed its wounds and sought relief in unlikely places. Whoever troubled themselves, after all, over the sorrows of a young woman of no consequence anymore now that the war was over? Such is the way of the world. There is no hope for deliverance. One is doomed to eternal damnation in the fires of the world. Such is the way of the world.

AN: Please review.


	2. Chapter 2 Condemned

AN: Hello to everyone who does me the honour of reading this story. Disclaimers apply, of course. This would be a long story, perhaps novel length. It is my first attempt at fan fiction. I would truly appreciate any constructive criticism. Apart from all this, the story is about Snape, Hermione and Riddle. I am not sure as to how I would end the story, or what the ultimate pairing would be, but read on and let me know of your thoughts and suggestions. Oh and I would be updating quickly, thrice or more per week.

Regards

Ellesemera

P.S. Please review.

Chapter 2

As the day dawned, the sunlight crept through the dark blinds in the room, gently caressing his careworn face. He lay in bed, exhausted beyond reckoning. It had been a long night. One thing that he was truly grateful for was the fact that his wife had not ventured out of her study to torment him with her presence. He opened one eye and glared at the blinds as if to intimidate the sunlight into retreat. The room was still dark, the upholstery barely visible. His bride of five months had had the presence of mind enough to not aggravate him further by making changes to his bedroom. He would have arranged for separate rooms, but that would have been too suspicious. After all, the ministry was single minded upon this issue. More population. He snorted in disdain. To him life seemed such a wearisome burden. He wondered why anyone wanted to continue. He certainly had not wanted to survive the war. Hadn't expected to. Perhaps he was more cunning than he believed. Having lived to see the end and beyond of the second war was no mean feat. Perhaps, he would have been grateful if he had had anything to live for. But fates were cruel. As always. Memories of last night were still fresh in his mind. He wondered if he would ever be free of perpetual murder and ferocious hunt for the surviving members of the dark. Not if the ministry had any say in it. He closed his eyes, it was too early yet.

"_Oh Severus… May I call you as such?" she giggled. Pathetic wench. Humming some disgusting melody in broken tone, she turned to face him. Red heels, overdone makeup, face filled with lust. How he detested her._

"_Indeed... love… "He whispered gently into her ears. "But it is a … ah… liberty given to few… you are special…" He gently caressed her arms. Stroking one arm with his long, thin and pale fingers. He brought the other down to hold her by waist, inwardly shuddering, and drew her closer. "So what was the interesting exploit you mentioned…earlier this evening?"_

_Her drooping eyelids raised to his, she ran a painted finger over his thin lips. "Oh that… nothing... It was some customer, a former follower of His..." she slurred. The alcohol had claimed her senses. "I… he's my regular you see… Lucius… He took me to this abandoned house last night… And tried… um... Something…" she stuttered. "With chains and cuffs. It was my first time. It was exciting, I..."_

"_Where was this house?" he interrupted, his tone harsher. He wanted the information as quickly as he could and be done with the deplorable creature that he held in his arms. In her stupor, she didn't notice. He had had a slight inkling of Malfoy's relation to this abomination, but the extent of it was unknown to him. He had employed gentle legilimency but to no avail. Her mind seemed protected by someone or something. The only other way was to coax the information out of her. This tedious task, it seemed, would end tonight. He would not have bed her anyway. _

"_Mm… Somewhere near the Mirabelle Park, you know?"She responded, blissfully unaware of his machinations, as she fumbled with the buttons in his coat. Yes, he knew the location. His former friend had shown it to him. Perhaps only him. He smirked. Tomorrow would be a long day. He must get some rest. _

"_No... I don't think so." He spoke, voice expressionless. "Look at me" _

_She made an effort to raise her eyes to his, failing which, she smiled inanely. Letting go of her weight, she leaned against him. He stiffened and caught her wrist in his hand, none too gently. _

"_It is time for you to leave."_

"_Obliviate."_

However long and unbearable the night had been, the day promised to be worse. He would be called, by the ministry, as soon as he reported of Malfoy's whereabouts. He would be compelled to join in the manhunt. More bloodshed, more violence, more agony. How he regretted the day he had voluntarily chosen to take the dark mark. He despised himself and the world for it. It had pushed him down a path from whence there would be no return. No return for the tainted.

The door to the left creaked open announcing his wife. Not that he needed the creaking. His perceptive senses had been honed sharp to the point they caused him physical pain if he concentrated. He drew a long breath and readied himself for her insufferable presence. She annoyed him. He hated her.

She stepped into the room and wordlessly crossed to the other door which led to the sitting room. Her eyes were puffy and downcast. Her faltering steps angered him further. _Weak. Perhaps she had spent the entire night wailing over her lost love. Pathetic. _She had been strong, he remembered. But now… she remained a mere shell of what she used to be. _Lamenting wretch. Perhaps she had decided to waste away in grief. Good riddance, if that were to be the case_. He had more pressing matters to attend to. He would not be able to conduct any classes today.

He swung his long legs over the mattress and silently crossed to the bathroom door. Fifteen minutes later, emerging from the shower, he espied his _wife_ in her school uniform, ready for classes. The desolate, haunted look still adorned her features. She drew a sharp breath when she became aware of her presence. Ignoring her, he moved to the study room. His study. The only place where he would not have to bear her existence. The sandglass sat patiently upon the table. For a minute he halted his steps. It would only take a few minutes. He would see her and be back. _No_, he shook his head_. Now was not the time. Perhaps later tonight. Yes. Later._

Gently removing the black cloak from the coat hanger by the window, he moved resolutely towards the door. It would be a long day indeed.

* * *

Staring at the stained window by the bush, he tried to ascertain the positions of his _comrades _in action. Yes, Lucius was in. He could sense it in the distinct dark stench that his magic gave off. _But his ministry assigned Aurors wouldn't know of that, would they? Inadept imbeciles. All of them_. He could take them all down with the smallest flick of his wand and a whispered dark curse. But he would not. Not now. No.

The house, sitting in a glade, was small but quaint. Surrounded by beautiful trees and the like, it could have been a beautiful retreat spot. If only it hadn't been for the present resident. One Lucius Malfoy. The house had anti-apparition wards, of course. They would simply have to enter the muggle way. Break down the door. Or the window. From his position behind the rather large overgrown bush, he could see the back door beside the stained window. Tiptoeing, he moved with the stealth of a predator out to hunt its prey. Sneaking behind the bush, he had a clearer view of the door. He could perceive the ward that guarded the entryway. Silently, closing his eyes, he concentrated and whispered:

_'Revelabunt protectione.'_

Yes, he knew those wards. He smirked to himself. Typical Malfoy. Predictable. Moving his hands in a complicated star gold pattern, he fixed his eyes upon the door and muttered under his breath. The strained mist of magic cleared as the gateway unsealed itself. He took a quick look around for others. Sighting Smith, he motioned for them to follow his lead. Pressing his back to the wall, he crept up to the door and entered. Wand in hand, he looked around. It was a kitchen. Lavishly decorated. Superfluous. Useless.

Moving over to the door beside the cooking counter, he gestured the others to stay while he spied the room beyond. Carefully opening the door, inch by inch, he stepped into what appeared to be the drawing room. And upon the bejewelled couch sat his former nemesis, now a prey. Lucius. He seemed expectant of their arrival. Perhaps that is why he appeared so relaxed. Fool.

"Ah, well met, dear old friend. This wouldn't be a social call, I am guessing." Lucius spoke, his tone unfazed. His silver blond hair was neat as ever, tied behind him.

"Indeed, _friend_. I know you are aware of the reason… unsavoury as my presence to you might be," he taunted the blond man, "Now, then, would you come quietly? Or might I have to employ some equally disturbing means to take you?" he chewed every word and spat at the man who grinned at him, unafraid.

"Oh Severus, whatever gave you the idea…?" Lucius chuckled, "Did I not know that you would find me? One can only run so far… You, surely, acknowledge that." He continued as he got up from his seat and took a step towards the potions master, "What are you running from, Severus? Surely, you cannot relish this torment of you former allies too much? Is it you _child bride_? Or the now years dead filth?... Tut, tut, tut…" he spoke quietly, "We were good friends, once." With that he drew his wand from the cane, preparing for attack. A jet of green light erupted from his wand and streaked towards Severus. But he was too quick and side-stepped the attack. Clenching his fist, he readied himself for attack.

'_Circumdare Flammis!'_

A coil of flames shot through his wand and surrounded Lucius. It was a creation of his own. Cold hatred burnt in his heart for this man. For his deeds, for his words… The flames choked and lashed at him. In a few seconds, deep burn marks could be discerned on his face and hands. Red, angry burn marks. Lucius, unable to breathe due to the uninterrupted onslaught of the flames surrounding him, passed out and collapsed to the floor. Unclenching his fist, he walked over to the huddled unconscious form. An expression of pure loathing on his face.

At this moment, his _comrades_ filed into the room. He looked around, contemplating. Was this life any different than the one he had forsaken? He was still the hunter. Only, his prey were former hunters themselves. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and sighed. Walking through the crowd of silently awed audience, he stepped out of the back door. Taking one last look at the scene behind him, he turned on his feet and apparated.

There was no hope for the condemned.


	3. Chapter 3 No Respite

AN: Hello every one. Please review as I need some feedback to continue. Do let me know whether or not you like the story. It is important to me. Tom Riddle would be entering the storyline soon. Please let me know. I would continue only if you tell me.

Regards.

Chapter 3

"Hermione." A quiet voice reached her foggy mind. She looked up from the stained spot in the Charms classroom only to realise that the entire class was staring at her. She looked at Harry, confused.

"Professor has been trying to get your attention for the last ten minutes…" He muttered from the corner of his mouth and looked away. She let her gaze linger on him for a second before turning to address the professor.

"Are you alright, dear? You seem preoccupied…" The professor spoke in a soft voice. They were practicing creating foggy wisps of clouds today. Quite showy, actually. She had mastered them a long while ago. But today, try as she might, she could not get her wand to emit more than a few feeble smoky rings. That was when her mind had wandered to the events of last night_. No, she couldn't think about them now. Not here. Not again._

"Forgive me, professor. I have a slight headache…" She mumbled, eyes downcast. She really couldn't be surrounded by people anymore. She needed to leave. "Perhaps I could go to the Hospital Wing?" She said in a small voice. Anything to get out of the stifling room. Any lie.

"Yes, yes. Of course. Perhaps Mr Potter would be so kind as to escort you. Go on, then. I hope you feel better soon" He replied kindly, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze before moving on to the next desk.

At this, Harry took her hand in his and led her out of the room. Walking silently, they both avoided looking at each other. Neither had any idea of where they were headed. Neither cared. Turning the corner, they realised they were facing a dead end. As always.

Looking anywhere but her, Harry turned towards her, fumbling in his robes.

"The ministry has chosen for me."

The hollowness in his voice caused her heart to break. It was the last straw. The tears she had held since morning broke down the barriers and silently streamed down her face. She took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. He looked at her face, his green eyes empty and resigned. The saviour of the world was no more than a mere name. The war always took its toll. For him it had been greater. Perhaps.

"I… I will be leaving, Hermione. Soon." He whispered quietly.

She nodded, her lips pressed, holding together whatever shred of restraint she had promising herself to not break. It was the right decision on his part. The only one that would let him preserve the last bit of sanity he had. He would leave the wizarding world and go east. He would leave_. Perhaps I should have chosen the same. Perhaps I can go with him. No, _she shook her head_. She wouldn't live without this world. She couldn't survive. It was like air to her without which her lungs would wither away. No matter the pain. _

"Come with me, Hermione… You do not tell me but I can see it in your eyes. You're unhappy. No, that's a mild word. You're dying, I see it every time I look at you… Please, you're all I have left…" His voice shook as he tried to control himself. He would not cause her more pain by showing his helplessness, his despair. Typical, kind Harry. He always thought of her. He was the only one. She drew him into a deep hug and sobbed. All of last night's helplessness, rage broke loose as she clung to him.

"Shh… Don't… Please come with me…" He pleaded in a desperate voice. She fell apart. Over and over again.

"You know I can't… Harry…" She choked. Her throat gagged. "I can't… No matter how much I wish it… You'll be fine… I know you… My dearest friend." She drew away to look into his eyes that shone with barely restrained tears. Gently cupping his face as he wiped her face with his handkerchief, she smiled. "When?" Her eyes enquired silently.

"Tonight."

* * *

She lay in the armchair, gently stroking her silver necklace. It soothed her delirious mind. Yes, she was close to losing it. She had no one left. One by one, all had been taken from her. Her parents. Ron. And now Harry. Her last hope. The only one. Gazing around the dark room, she wondered where her husband was. It had been two days since she had seen him. Two days since Harry had left. _Wallowing in self-pity_, she sighed. She hadn't studied in nearly a week. All the assignments lay neglected on her desk in the study. The sudden sound of footsteps drew her eyes to the door. She gripped the arms of her chair.

He took a cursory glance at her and then froze as he stared at the necklace in her hands. Curling his lips in derision, he spoke.

"Still mourning, you? What a pity… Your fool of a lover did, after all, deserve the splendid send off into the next world." He continued at the thunderstruck, wounded expression on her face, tears brimming in her eyes. "It was ten against one, what did the fool expect? No? Too bad, facts prove otherwise… He's dead." He moved over to her side, towering over her as she cowered in her armchair.

"Don't…" She whispered, her tone pleading. "Please… Don't"

Grabbing her by the wrist, he pulled her to her feet. She staggered as he caught her and backed her against the wall, knocking the flower pot off the side table. Pinning her to the wall, he looked into her eyes, his face hard and cold.

"It hurts you, _wife_? I hurt you, do I? Would you rather I were dead and he alive? Your pathetic moping lover? Have you no sense of honour…., being married and all?" He spoke in venomous tone, "Either way, I do not care. But do refrain from this weak display to garner my pity. You will have none. Neither will your dead swine of a boyfriend!"

At this, something snapped inside her. Rage. Pure hatred as she had never felt before caused her to do the unthinkable. With all her strength she pushed against his muscular form. He stumbled backwards as she caught herself and drew her wand. Her hands shook as she pointed it at his surprised face. Perhaps he hadn't expected her to retaliate.

"Don't… Don't you fucking dare, ever, again, speak about him! You miserable excuse for a human being. I hate you, I despise your existence, helpless as I am to bear it." She shook in rage and anguish, both intertwined, attacking her simultaneously. "You! Consorting with whores when your wife is in the next room, speak about honour!" She spat as he narrowed his eyes at her in anger, "I am glad she left you, and that she's dead. To see what you became…," She shook her head but before she could finish he flung her wand out of her hand with a simple flick of his wrist and slammed her into the wall, his fingers closed around her throat.

"Speak of her again and you would not live." He murmured, his tone deadly. "Do not presume of what you don't know. You have been warned."

Loosening his grip, he drew away as she slid down the wall. The angry red marks on her throat stung as sought the carpet to support her weight. A painful throb in her right hand alerted her to the wifely duties she would be compelled to perform tonight. The ring, the bane of her existence, was burning.

* * *

She had not moved as hours passed and it was nearly midnight. She sat hugging her figure close to her chest, dreading what was to come soon. Only a silent creak announced his arrival. His dark figure stood, ominous. For a second he stood, an unfathomable expression on his face. Moving towards her, he grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the bed.

"Not t… tonight. Please." She spoke weakly, unable to bear any more emotional assault on herself. She knew, though, it would have to endure. Nothing she said or he did would change the fact.

"We have no choice."

Moving gingerly towards the bed, she sat at the edge as though that would be her haven. As though anything could save her. She bit back a silent whimper as he clutched her wrist and drew her towards the centre of the bed. He was still dressed, as always. She closed her eyes as if to lessen to the trauma of this weekly form of torture that the ministry had devised. No, she could not see or feel anymore. She did not feel his nimble fingers undo her belt. She could not feel him remove her skirt, pulling it down as he struggled to unzip his own pants. She would not feel him remove her panties, she would not feel his throbbing, pulsating erection as he delved into her opening. Although it had been five months, she still hadn't got used to this experience. It hurt every time he pushed into her folds. It hurt as her muscles expanded to allow him entry. It hurt badly. His thrusts weren't gentle, far from it. Tonight they were exceptionally rough. She whimpered in pain as the uncaring man above her concentrated on the drawer at the far end of the bed so as to not meet her eyes or look at her face. She gasped for breath as his unrelenting assault lessened and with a last grunt he rolled off her. With a quick wave of his hand, his clothes gathered themselves and without a look backwards at her he left the room.

Drawing her knees to her chest, she lay on bed, she lay in the foetal position for a long time in the darkness. Clutching the sheets to her as she covered herself, she cried into the pillow. Screaming into the feathery mass, she relieved herself of the agony she felt. Her heart bled. Her soul felt tattered. She twisted and writhed, her nerves straining to gain control. She bit into the pillow, its softness gagging her until her breath relaxed. Relatively calmed, she wiped the tears off her face as she remembered her treasure. Moving over to her side, left side, she slid down the bed and locating the fallen necklace beside the armchair picked it up. Closing her fingers over it, she lay down on the bed again. Gently caressing it, she eased in her position. It was long before sleep claimed her. She would have no respite.

There would be no respite for the forsaken.


	4. Chapter 4 Mishap

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters you see in this fic. The story is for entertainment purposes only, I make no profit off it.

AN: Heartfelt thanks to the people who so graciously reviewed my story. To the guest reviewer: You're quite correct in saying that Snape seems to be meaner than he was in canon. But there is a reason for it which will become quite apparent in the oncoming chapters.

Yes, this is a post war fic. I mentioned it in the first paragraph of the first chapter. Again, I am not writing this fic around the key issues of redemption, love and sacrifice. They may be there, but for now I have no such plans. Happiness, too, isn't the main issue. Apart from these, as you read this chapter, Severus and Hermione would both travel to the past rather than just Hermione. I am glad you pointed out the flaw in the lack of a back story. I would be providing you with the same once Hermione and Severus get into the past. As far as the dialogue is concerned, I believe these teenagers aren't normal having had to live through a war. The mere shock would take away laughter and throw their lives into chaos. The aftermath would be disillusionment coupled with despair. Even for the most fortunate one. And hence I don't believe these people would act like us. Thus the dialogue is a little serious in tone, underscoring the depth of change these people have experienced in their persona.

Lastly, please read and review. I would love to know what you think about this chapter and let me know how you would like the story to progress.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 4

He shut the door behind him and silently dressed himself. Overcoming the nauseous feeling rising inside of him, he reached for the sandglass that lay on his desk. Turning it over in his long fingers, he reached for the engraved 2 on the upper side but hesitated. Now was probably not the right time._ No, not tonight. It would have to wait. _He replaced the wooden device on his desk and slumped in his chair. There would be no sleep for him tonight, he mused.

"_Please… not t...Tonight..." _

He could hear her plea. It thrummed in his ears, magnified manifold. Her humiliation. One would have thought he would be used to it by now, having had to copulate with her for the past five months. Oh, how he hated the fates. Having been a spy for years under the Dark Lord, he had not had a personal life. But still, his rooms had offered shelter. He had had a semblance of privacy, comfort even. But now, after the war, even that had been taken away from him. He sometimes blamed her for it, but in his heart he knew it was no more her fault than his. Still, he could not forgive her the unwanted invasion of his privacy. But tonight… He shook his head_, don't go down that road. No self-loathing, remember. People can only use it against you. He was a cold, unfeeling monster, after all._

"Curse the damn ministry!" He swore to himself.

Not for the last time, he wished death upon himself. Glaring at the accursed ring, his wedding ring, he wished it would end. He had hoped, when the marriage law had been passed, that he would somehow manage to circumvent the ministry requirements of weekly intercourse. But the ancient charm placed on their twin rings had made his every plan quite redundant. But he had been able to brew a potent potion, a covert design of his, to ensure minimum chances of conception. _At least that part had worked_, he sighed. He hadn't meant to attack her. But her words had drawn blood from his heart. His fury had been without restraint. He had to avoid further confrontations with her, he did not want her dead, much as her presence irked him.

He glanced at the Grandfather Clock sitting by the bookshelf. It would be day light soon. The ministry had put him on another manhunt duty. With ever so many praises to the ignorant public, and veiled threats in private, they had backed him into a corner. While on the trial for his past atrocities and incursions, he had hoped they would sentence and leave him alone to rot. But after Potter's testimony, he had been hailed as a hero. They had released him. There had been an ulterior motive, of course. They had released him on the condition that he participate in the vicious manhunt of his former comrades. In the meanwhile, he was to fulfil his duties as the Potions Master at school. Some release, indeed.

* * *

Hermione groaned as soft daylight caressed her bushy brown curls. She did not want to wake up. Sleep provided such blissful forgetfulness. She frowned and sighed, swinging her thin legs over the bed. Her mind was eerily empty. It had been so for weeks. Not a single thought, no emotion, nothing. Except that her heart was heavy. She couldn't comprehend the rending pain in her heart. It was as if her heart and mind had been severed. She could feel but not comprehend.

After taking a quick shower, she took a hurried look into the seating room to check for his foreboding presence. He wasn't there. She heaved a sigh of relief. Emerging from the dungeons, she made her way towards the library. She had to research the dementia potion. The assignment was due the next day. He would jump at the readymade chance to humiliate her further. To degrade her, to... _No, don't go there,_ she told herself.

It was still early as she arrived at the library. Very few students bothered to wake up at this hour, let alone haunt the confines of library. Examining the titles in the Potions section of the library, she found the tome she was looking for. Clutching the book gingerly to her side, she settled down in her favourite spot by the window. The gilded book was ancient. Nobody had touched it in a long while, it seemed. The deep blue cover flaunted the title: **Darkness and Dementia: A magical Approach.**

A quick search through the index garnered result and in a few minutes one could observe her deep in reading, apparently at ease in the familiar surroundings.

'_Dementia Elai, commonly mistaken for the muggle dementia, is a magical malady that is both dangerous and intriguing. Combined with symptoms common to muggle schizophrenia and Partins Syndrome, its hallucinogenic properties are the most discerning feature. The patient rarely acknowledges, if ever, the ailment. One of the most curious properties associated with this malady is the recurrence of prophetic dreams. In the few cases documented, these dreams or visions prove to be true 99 percent of the time. Another characteristic includes violent, sudden lapses of memory followed by excessive accumulation of magical energy in the afflicted person. _

_The causes of Dementia Elai remain unknown mostly due to lack of adequate research. The Dementia Potion, however, acts as a temporary restorative for the early stages. Though once a person is unfortunate enough to be claimed by the disease, there is no treatment available. No living person has survived the cursed disease. It drives most to delirium and eventual insanity._

_Vorene Flaur, a mysterious herb known for its analgesic properties is claimed to have a mild numbing effect but the authenticity of such a claim remains dubious as no person afflicted with the disease has survived. The herb itself is quite elusive and only twice in the written history of wizard kind has its use been explicitly documented.'_

'_Vorene Flaur'_, _hmm_, she mused. The name sounded distinctly familiar. She needed to know more about the herb, but try as hard as she might, she couldn't quite recall where she had read about it. And it was certainly something she had read recently, she was quite sure of the same.

_Where, where have I read this term?_ She frowned in thought. Her eyes widened as she recalled the source of her memory.

'_She was tiptoeing across the sitting room, holding her breath, hoping against hope that he would not be in. She had needed to leave the stifling, dark and gloomy quarters. It had been raining all night. The librarian had insisted that she leave, it had been 1 a.m. by the time she reached her, their, rooms. She had almost succeeded, when his harsh voice stopped her in her tracks._

"_Sneaking in late?" His malicious voice ran a shiver down her spine._

"_I… um… I was in the library" She spoke in a small voice and hung her head. His thin lips curled in a sneer._

"_Of course," He replied, eyeing the book bag slung over her shoulder. "But your romantic escapades into the library do not explain the lateness of you arrival, do they?"_

_Pinning her slight form with a disdainful glare, he uncrossed his arms and with a violent flurry of his cloak swept past her through the door into the dungeons. He carried a book in his hand. It was titled The Elusive Remedies: Flaur, Apere and Resoce".'_

She halted her thought process for a while and frowned at the large tome in her hands. Briefly, she wondered if she should ask him for it. He had been unusually quiet for the past few weeks, almost withdrawn. Nowadays, instead of scathing remarks he silently ignored her. No words had been exchanged between them since that night. She shuddered as she remembered his reaction to her that day. He avoided her presence as much as he could. She couldn't really complain about this arrangement. This silence had comforted her, she could gather her thoughts and enjoy the solace, temporary though it may be. Free from his incessant verbal onslaughts, she felt calmer these days. Almost human. But the question remained, did she dare ask him for the book?

Looking at the watch to check time, she was surprised that it was already time for her first class. Potions. She shook her head, she had missed breakfast. Perhaps she should just ask him after the class. She resolved in her mind and with slow but steady steps trudged towards the classroom. She was just on time. The rest of the class had already settled. She went and quietly sat beside Neville, without glancing at her husband once. She concentrated on her Soporificus potion the entire lesson, ignoring Neville's gentle pleas for help. She needed to be inconspicuous and meek. She had a favour to ask, after all.

After the lesson, as most of the students in her class hurriedly left the room, she hung back. Shuffling her feet, she took the longest time to pack her bag. When she was the only one remaining, she sneaked a glance at him. He was scribbling some notes on a piece of parchment, not the best of times to interrupt, but she wouldn't get any better.

"Um… excuse me, Sir?" she asked, keeping her eyes downcast. He merely continued with the scribbling without giving any indication that he had heard her.

"Sir...?" This time he looked up, his eyebrows raised in question.

"I was wondering if you could…. Umm, lend me the book 'The Elusive Remedies'?"She hesitated, wondering if some sarcastic remark would be forthcoming and if she should get ready to flee the classroom. To her astonishment, Snape merely looked at her with an unreadable expression on his face. After a minute of silence in which she could feel dread creeping upon her, he spoke in a low voice.

"My study. Evening." He said and returned to his parchment. Heaving a sigh of relief, she made her way out as quickly as she could. She was astonished, to say the least. _That conversation, no, exchange of a few syllables, was almost civil. Well, as civil as he could get,_ she sighed.

* * *

Even though he had agreed to give her the book, she was apprehensive about facing him again. Twice in the same day. As she made her way back to their rooms from the library, she felt afraid. _What if he had changed his mind? No, what if he had never meant to give her the book in the first place? She would just have to find out in person. It was time anyway_, she bit her lip as she thought. Crossing the seating room silently, she came to a stop in front of his study door. Her palms sweaty, she debated on whether she should wait outside or knock. Deciding upon the latter, she knocked. No answer. She frowned in puzzlement. She wondered if she should simply go in and wait. _No, that would be suicidal_, she reprimanded herself. Whilst she stood debating thusly, he entered the seating room and without one glance at her swept into the study room. The door, however, did not close behind him. Recognising this as a sign of invitation, she ventured into the study area. The sight that greeted her was quite welcome. Shelves upon shelves of books lined the walls. A cursory glance over the titles made her feel giddy with the realisation of the amount of knowledge that surrounded her. Even the Hogwarts Library could not boast of such discerning taste. She felt like herself more than she had in the months following the Last Battle. Feeling a lot more composed than she had felt a while ago, she raised her eyes to Snape in expectation. His back was turned to her, and he seemed to be examining the bookshelf by the window.

A soft glint from the desk near her caught her eye. It was a sand glass. But not an ordinary, grown up one. No this was orange and it had the most beautiful crimson sand filling. It even had numbers at the top surface which glowed brightly. It appeared to be a child's toy. How curious that Snape would have something like this. She used to have an hour glass when she was a child. Her mother had brought her a burgundy one. It was musical and would play different tuned as the sand trickled down slowly. Back then, she could be drawn into awe for tiniest of trinkets, she mused. As she surveyed the dark, brooding man standing with his back to her, she wondered why he kept this object in his study. And then she did something that she would regret for quite a long time. Still drifting in nostalgia for what was no more, she reached out her scarred fingers and touched the sandglass. It had very less quantity of sand in it to be honestly referred to as sand glass. Absentmindedly, she stroked the thin glassy exterior of the object, musing. As her fingers touched the upper surface, she felt oddly calm. All sense of being in her husband's ominous presence seemed to have left her as she gently ran her fingers over the engraved numbers.

"_**What do you think you're doing?"**_

Her husband's dangerous voice near her roused her from her reverie. She looked up in fright but as she did so her finger accidentally pressed a little forcefully into the number 5. This proved to be her undoing. He flew in rage and… _was it panic?_ She hardly had anytime to register the mind numbing pain that had grappled her entire body as Snape had moved to grab her wrist, trying to draw it away from the sand glass that glowed bright orange.

The attempt proved unsuccessful and their forms froze, glued to the strange sand glass. She couldn't move, searing pain ripped out every portion of her thin body. The agony was unbearable, she wanted to cry out but her jawbone wouldn't move. She felt claustrophobic inside her own skin, she wanted to breathe, sense, move. But her physical body was immobile, attached to her husband's, while she gripped the sandglass. Her mind, though, moved frantically, trying to lunge at any explanation regarding what was happening to them. She was afraid as she had never been in her life. A whirlwind now surrounded them, slow moving, dark and light at the same time, casting shadows at them now and illuminating their figures with bright gold then. The fear that had awoken in her heart was subdued by this majestic sight. But her awe had too few moments for its life, suddenly the searing pain was back and she was struggling to breathe. She gagged and choked upon the elusive air before she passed out. It would be long before she woke up again.

But then again, the realm of Morpheus is a charming place indeed.

* * *

AN: Now that we have reached the portion where an accident occurs, please let me know if you would like Hermione and Severus to be separated or would you like for them to remain together. Separated as in she ends up in a different place around London while he is flung to some other city. Read an Review


	5. Chapter 5 Darkness Falls

AN: Hello there again, I hope my updates aren't too quick. :P Thank you for your replies, I am rather glad to hear your opinions. To the one person who said my asking does not inspire confidence, I wish to reassure you that I do know where my story is going and how I plan for it to turn out. My only motive behind the question was to gauge your opinions on the same, it never hurts to incorporate others' ideas into your story. Also, their being together wouldn't really change the flow of the plot and hence I simply wished to know of my readers' viewpoints.

On a different note, I have introduced Tom Riddle in this chapter. I hope you enjoy reading him as much as I liked writing him. Of course, he isn't too cruel in this chapter, but wait and be around and things might just change. Character death ahead, so brace yourselves.

Please read and review. I hope you like it.

Enjoy!

Regards,

* * *

Chapter 5

A loud unearthly sound echoed in his head as he staggered in front of the door. Crossing the threshold, he stumbled against the wall and slid down, using his palms to support his weight. Breathing heavily, he tried to wrap his mind around what had transpired.

_Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! The corpse would still be lying there. I must think about it quickly and dispense with all evidence. Soon. Or else…._

He shuddered at the mere thought of repercussions. Trying to compose himself when he was obviously rattled was an extreme feat for Tom. His heart thumped in his chest as he drew deep breaths to calm himself. He gazed into the flickering torchlight as the proverbial wheels in his mind turned. _What had happened?_

"_He was standing near the steps leading to the front doors of the castle. He could espy from afar his so called 'friends' tormenting a fifth year. Josephine, her name was, or was it? He shrugged and shook his head. What did he care anyway? All students other than Slytherins were utter filth anyway. Unworthy. Inferior. Dirty._

_But this harmless bullying seemed to be getting out of hand. Malfoy had slapped the girl, who, losing her balance, fell on the ground. Tom took a quick look around before affixing the group with his stony gaze. He really would have to remind them of the meaning of discretion. This should not be taking place in full view of the castle. He narrowed his eyes and moved with resolute steps towards the group of four. On reaching them, he stood silently, surveying the girl's state. _

"_What seems to be the problem here?" He asked in an authoritative but smooth tone of voice. The girl looked up in hope, her eyes brimming with tears. Foolish wretch. You should be afraid. _

_His 'friends' looked at him expectantly, obviously awaiting some praise. He glanced at each of them with raised eyebrows and eventually came to rest his eyes upon Lestrange who seemed to be the leader of this ill-timed crusade. _

"_My Lord." He said respectfully"A slight impasse between Avery here and this girl got out of hand. She wouldn't listen to him and we thought we would teach her a lesson." He supplied smugly as the three others snickered around him._

_He let his gaze slide over each of them, finally coming to rest upon the girl. A blank expression graced his handsome face, a cruel smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. _

"_Perhaps a secluded spot would be more conducive to your extracurricular activities… yes? This oversight of precautions would not go unpunished, Lestrange." His tone hardened as he uttered the last sentence. The girl's eyes widened at this statement from the head boy. He had always seemed so… nice. Lestrange cringed at Tom's pronouncement, his friends remained seemingly unfazed. It was never prudent to show emotion in front of Tom. _

_The twilit sky would soon give way to the darkness of night. It was his favourite time of the day. Gesturing towards the path well-trodden by him and his followers, he led the way. The girl, silently stunned, was being levitated in their wake. He was quite calm today. Perhaps he would not inflict too much pain upon her, he chuckled darkly to himself. He was a kind lord, after all._

_They reached the clearing that he had warded heavily, so heavily in fact that no one could break through his protective enchantments. No one but Dumbledore, perhaps. He frowned in thought at his nemesis. He would deal with the old codger soon enough, as soon as he finished his… but there would be time for worry later. It would not do to spoil the recreational hour._

_The girl was lying on her back now. Malfoy bent down and muttered a soft Enervate to waken her. She whimpered softly as she tried to sit up but to no avail. Hmm… Too weak. Perhaps he should let the four idiots try out their more recent dark curses, he mused as if trying to solve an innocent equation._

"_Malfoy. The dark flame." _

_He spoke nonchalantly, twirling his pale wand in between his fingers, as if he hadn't just condemned another to excruciating pain and mortal agony. Malfoy nodded and stepping back from her waved his wand in a complicated star pattern followed by an incantation._

**"_Tenebris Flamma!"_**

_A coil of green flames shot through his wand and hit the girl squarely in chest. Her shriek was terrible to hear. Visibly, the girl appeared unharmed, but deep within her blood he knew every single cell had collapsed. Her heart would be stretched to its utmost limit and then collapse only to expand again. The flame of life would burn out her essence. She really was quite crude, wailing and screaming. Did she want to prolong her agony by annoying him? He scrunched up his nose in disgust and muttered the counter curse. He wouldn't let her die, yet. Too much suspicion. Motioning to Lestrange to move forward, he settled in the hollow of a tree, surveying his nails with indifference. Lestrange moved forward and kicked the girl in the stomach. She cried out as he dragged her by the hair. Looking at Tom with question regarding the curse to use, he held onto her crumpled, battered form._

_Tom pondered for a second and walked over to both of them. But as he was only about two steps away from them, a loud unearthly noise resounded in the clearing, beyond too, perhaps. It was the most painful experience of his life. The noise or whatever it was, filled his being in entirety and his head split into two in pain. His muscles cracked with strain as his eyes unfocused and he sat down on his knees, holding onto his head, trying to assuage the onslaught of that ear-splitting presence. The noise continued and his body reacted violently as though his nerves had exploded. Blood had started to run down his nose onto his impeccably white cotton shirt._

_It took inhuman effort for him to control himself as the sound re-filled the air surrounding him. Wrath, pain, fury burned inside of him sending him over the edge. In this state of senselessness, he pointed his wand towards the girl and spoke in a ragged voice. He was facing imminent death if he did not act quickly._

**"_Hostia vita tua!" _**

_The sobbing mass of profanity went limp as life eased out of her. Immediately, the agony within his body and mind stopped. The burning flesh desisted from tormenting him further and cooled down. His thoughts were, once more, his._

"_Leave. All of you!" He snarled in dangerous tone while trying his best to control his wrecked nerves. Breathing raggedly still, he bent double as he tried to use his soiled palms on his knees pushing himself into an erect posture. Casting a quick Scourgify, he vanished any traces of blood on his shirt and took a deep breath. He needed to be alone, he needed to think. Panting still, he walked with quick faltering footsteps towards the castle._

He felt relatively calmer now, though the fear he had experienced moments ago still shook him to core. Even though he did not know what had caused the inexplicable phenomenon, he knew he would have died. Not literally, he had his Horcruxes, but quite close. In flesh, that is. A keen presence of mind honed over the years had saved his life. At the last moment he had sacrificed the girl's life to save his. Magic worked in wonderful ways. Ways he could use for personal ambitions. Power. Immortality. Dominance.

Closing his eyes, he ruminated upon the events that had taken place a while ago. But try as he might, he could not find an adequate explanation for them. No, he had never read anything even remotely close to what had happened_. _Moreover, Malfoy and the others had been unaffected by it. They hadn't even seemed aware of something out of common occurring around them. _Perhaps, an exclusive search in the restricted section of the library would be in order…_

* * *

Nobody who saw Tom Riddle fifteen minutes later could have guessed at his state of inner turmoil. A mask of polite indifference in place, he walked with slow and graceful, resolute steps as was his wont. But this calm façade was replaced by thinly veiled curiosity as he noticed the panicked expressions on his peers' faces in corridors. _Why does everyone seem so afraid? Did they already find the girl, before he had a chance to dispose of the body? NO, that couldn't be, it has to be something else… But what…?_

Locating one of the Slytherins in the corridor, he indicated for him to approach him. The boy gulped and approached Tom with apprehension. Nobody who knew him could remain calm when Tom wanted them for something. It usually turned out to be a horrid experience. But today was different. Tom had had enough of surprises. His face was still set into a genial smile as the boy approached him with uncertain, fearful steps.

"What appears to be the reason for this… wide spread panic in the castle Black?" He spoke quietly, his tone demanding and meaningful. The boy swallowed and looked away from his menacing gaze.

"There's a rumour going around… th…that a teacher has died in the castle…" The boy stammered under Tom's unrelenting and piercing scrutiny, still looking down at his shoes. Tom tilted his head and arched an eyebrow, signalling for the boy to continue.

"Some… that is… it's D…Dumbledore…" The boy looked up to meet his grey eyes as he murmured the last word incoherently. Tom's mind froze as he tried to process this new development. _Dumbledore dead? How could it be, he was quite powerful. Not as powerful as Tom in a few years, but still an exceptionally powerful wizard. No living being could contend with him in a duel, no, this was quite impossible. But what if… _Tom ran a shaky hand through his hair as he recalled the incident in the Forbidden Forest. Maybe that had something to do with Dumbledore's death. If he had died, that is. He must confirm it from credible sources. He nodded curtly to Black and moved in the opposite direction.

* * *

Despite having descended almost seven floors, Tom entered the great hall without any sign of fatigue. If anything, he appeared more impeccably composed than ever. To the discerning eye, however, his ill-conceived excitement was apparent. The sight that greeted him was one of pandemonium. Students, teachers and the helping staff were all trying in vain to maintain the slightest semblance of control. Most girls seemed to be crying, tears running down their painted faces. Boys, their features contorted in disbelief and pain, tried valiantly to soothe them. The Slytherins maintained a calm exterior, but Tom could descry discomfort and apprehension as they fidget in their seats. Most professors, with the exception of Professor Lowell, the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, appeared greatly agitated. Headmaster Dippet seemed to be trying to draw attention to himself, the bumbling idiot, Tom thought.

There were whispered conversations, snatches of which seemed to confirm the thrice welcome rumour in Tom's head. It all seemed so unreal, like a part of some misty dream that he had stolen. His greatest wish was fulfilled without any effort on his part.

"_Dumbledore? Did you hear…?"_

"_It couldn't be, could it?"_

"_Is it true? But why him…. He was always so kind…"_

Dippet seemed to have attracted the attention of a few among the crowd and was speaking rather pompously. Shifting his collar around his neck, Tom tried to listen to the foolish man standing at the head table.

"I understand that the sad untimely demise of our beloved Professor Dumbledore has pained you beyond what mere words could say…." The man seemed to be struggling with words, eloquence was never his best quality.

_So it was true, then. Dumbledore had died. Under mysterious circumstances, moreover. But how?,_ Tom thought as he tuned out the remaining part of Dippet's rather terrible attempt at speech. An odd rivulet of exhilaration ran down his spine as he analysed the implications of this good fortune. The first immediate one was that he wouldn't have to labour to hide the girl's dead body and fabricate an innocent explanation for the same. Second, with him out of the way, his reign over the school would be supreme. He would be able to delve deeper into darker magic and get away with it. Perhaps even a few unforgivable curses. Nobody would ever detect him in any wrongdoing. The only one who ever doubted him was now dead, lost to the world. Yes, Tom would be able to unleash his fury unchecked and unafraid. He smirked evilly at the thought, anticipating much pleasure that lay before him. He frowned as another train of thought crossed his mind.

_I wonder how he died though. It seems rather uncanny that I would face mortal peril on the same day that he died. Under mysterious circumstances, no less. No, the two must be connected. The potent source of destruction had to be the same. But then why hadn't the old codger been able to save himself? Hmm, perhaps he was too benevolent to sacrifice others to save himself. Yes, that would explain it. I, however, harbour no such false scruples. Pity that your sacrifice wouldn't yield much, Professor. Things are about to take a turn for the worse. Once I find out about today's bizarre mishaps, your precious pupils and principles would have no buffer against the terrible storm that lies in wait, hidden in me. You knew no what I am capable of, _Tom thought as his lips twisted into a disdainful sneer and his face hardened to stone. A few Slytherins around him flinched and scooted away, sensing the darkness of energy that surrounded him. He looked around, pinning each with the same twisted sneer and got up. Turning on his feet, he moved gracefully out of the Great Hall, his chiselled features set into a mournful mask. It promised to be a long night in the restricted section.

_They knew not what terrible fates lay in wait._

_They knew not what he was capable of._

**AN: I hope you liked it. Please review. Every single one makes me smile so wide, I have more incentive to write every day. :**


	6. Chapter 6 Stranded

AN: Hello everyone, I hope you like this one. The story is gathering pace, I hope you like it. I love writing it.

Please review and let me know your opinions, ideas and criticism. I cherish them.

ENJOY!

Chapter 6

_A taste of honey..._

_A taste much sweeter than wine... I will return..._

_I'll come back for the honey and you..._

The song played around her while she traversed the gentle realms of non-being. Morpheus had been kind to her. But now, it seemed, all her gentle hosts bade farewell to her with heavy hearts. It had been a beautiful journey.

Hermione groaned softly as consciousness returned to claim her. Softly, it caressed her body, making her aware of the acute pain that surrounded and pervaded her flesh. Her shallow breathing was ragged, her abdomen twisted in and out viciously and her bones seemed to be on fire. She flitted in and out of awareness as agony took over and reduced her to a pile of moaning bushy-haired shell of a woman. Whimpering still, she tried to open her eyelids that had become so heavy that the weight of the world seemed to rest upon them. A shooting sting that ran all the way from the elbow to the wrist of her left hand elicited a sharp hiss from her. As she grabbed her left arm with her right one, she realised that she had succeeded in opening her eyelids. The world around her appeared blurry and unfocused, not to mention dark and damp. Ignoring the soreness and the throbbing, she tried to prop herself up by using her elbows to support the weight of her upper half. She managed to progress halfway before her shaking limbs gave way and she collapsed on the soft surface. The surface she lay upon was soft. Perhaps it was a mattress. Unable to get up, she moved her hand over the supple surface. Yes, it was definitely a mattress, a conjured one too, at that, judging by the soft crinkle of magical energy that reacted to her touch. She still could not see much, her surroundings were like an incoherent blur to her worn out eyes. Strangely, she did not worry about it. Drawing a deep breath, or at least trying to, she closed her eyes and thought. Having been lulled into a sense of security by the soft sheets, she had forgotten to wonder about the source of her current state. Still moving her hand over the gentle sheets, she reflected upon how she had ended up in this place. Her memory was fuzzy, she couldn't recall much. Straining her mental energies into over work mode, she concentrated upon remembering the events that had led to her being there. A swirl of memories came crashing down upon her jolting her awake from the seemingly content state of mind she was in. Everything came back, from the Dementia potion to Snape's study and the sand glass..._Oh._

_No. No. No. It didn't happen. What happened? How foolish of you to touch that, Hermione. Why the hell in Merlin's world did I have to touch the glass? Oh God, what am I going to do now? I have no idea of where I am or what has happened to me. What will I do? I can't even see... And my wand..._

At this, her eyes shot open once more and she struggled to get up. Groping around with unseeing eyes and scarred hands, she ran her nimble fingers all over the bed, for that is what it was, in an effort to search for her wand. She ignored the throbbing pain in her abdomen. She ignored the searing gash that had started to bleed from her left leg. She ignored the fact that she her vision had become more clouded as she strained herself physically and mentally. Ignoring everything, she struggled on. She ran her hand all over the soft sheets twice before realising that the wand was not on her bed. Ignoring her current decapitated state, she crawled to the edge of the bed, breathing raggedly. Calling forth her entire willpower, she propped herself up using the dwindling force of her elbows and her palms. Still flailing gently and clutching the bed post for support, she tried to stand up but to no avail. Her weak legs gave way and she swayed in danger of hitting her head on the bedpost of she fell against it. She grabbed the bedpost again in order to steady herself once more but the mind numbing pain in her body had become overwhelming. It was worse than what she had suffered under the Cruciatus curse by Bellatrix. She dug he fingernails into the sleek wood of the bedpost as a last resort effort. Her breathing had become more erratic than before. The pain, the memory, the loss: all of these whirled around her consciousness in an unending haze as she laboured. Teetering on the edge of delirium, she swayed and rocked as if to let go would mean an end to her. But her willpower could only take her so far. She felt it give way as her hands shook and her legs gave way. She readied herself for the imminent crash into the floor as her hands refused to hold on any longer. The crash that would further her present predicament.

But it never came. A pair of strong arms grabbed her around the waist as she felt the last strands of strength in her body give way. The same strong arms held onto her as her body went limp from over-exertion. They were gentle in their strong-willed imprisonment of her form. She felt oddly safe. Her unseeing eyes closed as the same muscular arms lifted her with ease and placed her upon the soft mattress. She let out a small gasp as the spongy surface met her aching back. She did not know why this comfort was being extended to her. She simply accepted it without suspicion. Her mental energies were utterly drained. She could not have withstood the onslaught of further expenditure of the same.

She stayed in the same position those arms had laid her in. A few seconds later, she felt the tingle of magic run down her spine as the soreness therein mellowed to a sweet ache. The same feeling enveloped the rest of her body as her agony faded to slight aches and throbs, nothing more. Relatively calmed, she let out a sigh of relief thanking whoever it was for this succour.

"Try not to move again. The pain... thereon would be... _excruciating_" A deep baritone voice reached her eardrums, soothing her while her mind registered the person who it may have belonged to. Panic overcame her senses as she realised who it was. Her husband. She started to hyperventilate as her eyes flitted open wide to settle upon the cold, unfeeling face. No expression graced his hard features as he looked into her hazel eyes. Sweat formed in beads across her forehead and her palms grew wet with anxiety as she cringed in fear of retribution. _Had he done this to her, _she wondered as images of her last conscious moments filled her head. _No, it couldn't be. He had helped her a few moments ago. Then why did she lay battered and bruised in bed while he seemed perfectly fine._ She surveyed his form as this thought crossed her mind._ No, he seems to have suffered no injuries. And since there is no one else around, perhaps he did this to her. For... for touching the sandglass..._At this, she drew in a sharp breath. Much as she hated the man, she had trusted that he wouldn't attack her. Not like this, she had hoped. Her eyes still wide open; she felt a stab of pain in her chest that could not have been related to a physical ailment. _But if his intent was to harm me, why would he help me and ease my pain? _She frowned in thought, heedless of the fact that her vision had returned. Drawing together her eyebrows still, she looked up at him, baffled and wearied.

Severus could see the panorama of emotions running across her features. His own face was set in an expressionless mask. She tarried around the feeling of comfort that his healing charm had relayed to her. But at the sound of his voice she had panicked. This fear drove her to the irrational conclusion that he had somehow harmed her or was responsible for her present state. At the look of confused wariness on her face, he sighed and spoke:

"Much as I might detest your presence and would like nothing more than to be rid of you, I am not responsible for your present state. I do not like to assault women, especially... my _wife_." He noticed as she cringed at the emphasis and continued in a no nonsense tone which she would not dare defy. "As you may have experienced yourself, movement would cause your body pain and your essence would disintegrate if not allowed to heal properly. Lay still and silent if you value your life."

She gulped in fear and _relief...?_ at his explanation, he noticed with pleasure. Seeing the puzzlement still dominant in her eyes that even his dark glare could not wipe out completely, he closed his eyes and cursed the heavens twice that day. When he had returned to consciousness following the accident, he had been lying in the middle of nowhere with his hand clamped tightly around her wrist. His first instinct had been to shake her senseless in rage and leave. But he could not do it owing to the simple fact that she had lain unconscious at his muddied feet. The lacerations on her body had been severe and quite a few bones seemed broken. He had had no choice but to heal her. His anger seemed to have receded in the meanwhile. The sandglass lay broken beyond repair to her side. Its shards had penetrated her flesh in innumerable places, drawing blood. But all he could think of was that the glass was shattered. He would not be able see her again, Lily...

He had lain near her in despair for the precious thing he had lost. After a while, the rainfall had brought him out of his melancholic musings. He had found an abandoned cottage nearby and after making it fit for human habitation, he had levitated the girl into a room near the back where she had lain for two days now. For two days he had tended to her, fearing the worse. Today she had awakened, greatly weakened but alive. And this was the reward for keeping her so. Suspicion, fear and disdain. It had always been so. He hated her and the world. He hated them all. And now he was stuck, somewhere in time, he had not bothered to find when, but shackled as he was to misery it hadn't mattered. Reprimanding himself for wallowing in self-pity, he buried himself deep in the dark ocean he had created around his heart. When he opened his eyes, there was nothing to see. His dark orbs reflected and saw everything but conveyed nothing. They made one shiver when the cold blade of their gaze land upon them. He felt nothing. Not anymore. Shifting his gaze to the motionless girl, he spoke indifferently:

"You have questions. Ask." She looked on in surprise at his pronouncement but seemed relieved as well. Biting her lip, she dropped her gaze to the sheets and asked the simplest question anyone could have, but he had not expected her to ask it

"What happened?"

"Your curiosity has led you astray once again, it seems, and once more you have dragged an unwilling party into this current predicament that we find ourselves in." She looked astonished at his use of the word 'we'. He paused at this and curled his lips into the trademark sneer of disdain as he continued. "Yes, _we_. The sandglass was a time device, as your incomparable intellect must have surmised by now. Not a time travel device, simply a contrivance that allows one to see into the past. But _somehow_, Miss Granger, my possession seems to have been broken by an impudent, good for nothing burden of a _wife_ while travelling through the mists of time. It appears that we yes _us_, have landed ourselves in some other time period or perhaps an alternative universe. I cannot say which as I have not bothered to find out. Whatever fate befalls _us_ from now on would be a consequence of _your_ doing..." He growled and gesturing to her motionless form, continued in the same tone dripping with disdain and hatred "This current state, too, is your fault. Having no experience with the time device of this kind, your body reacted violently to the large change in time and space. But rest assured, I wouldn't kill you. I have better things to do with my time and I believe your punishment has been _adequate_." He snarled the last words in her face as her eyes brimmed with tears at the callous remark over her present condition. She turned her face away from him to the other side as her chest heaved with poorly controlled sobs. Yes, this had been the reason that his godforsaken wrath had subsided. The girl had been hanging on the verge of death itself and only his quick skill and finesse had saved her from certain death. But he would receive no thanks for the good deed. Gratitude to him would be unsavoury for her. He didn't really mind that they had been flung into an unknown realm. It couldn't be worse than what he had in the present. But he mourned the loss of Lily, his only connection to sanity. He would never see her again. Not while he lived..._Oh Gods! Damn you, damn you all!_

Curling his hands into fists, he got up with resolve, determined to feel nothing. Glancing at the girl one last time, he got up and crossed to the old oaken door and left. She laid there in bed, for a long time, a weeping mess, a hollow soul of the girl she once was.

* * *

It was 1944. He had just found out from the muggle newspaper in the nearby village. So there it was, not an alternate realm, but certainly a different time. A storm was brewing in the west, he mused while scanning the darkening skies. Crumpling the newspaper, he flung it into the garbage can and moved across the street with purposeful strides. Reaching a dark corner, he stared intently into the shadows while his fingers held onto his wand tightly. _Perhaps the old codger deserves a visit_, he thought and turned on his feet, vanishing into nothingness.

The storm had set in as he clanked the giant doors of Hogwarts. Rain fell down in torrential swirls determined sink the world under its watery kingdom. Unmindful of the rain lashing menacingly at his form, he stood ominously, waiting and watching. Sound of splashing announced the gamekeeper who scrutinised his face warily before gruffly asking him who he was and what he wanted. Ignoring the man's rude demeanour, he spoke in deep, authoritative tone:

"My business is my own and not for your ears. I need to speak with professor Dumbledore. Allow me entry."

The gamekeeper, listening to this opened his mouth a bit as if to say something and then closed it again. The wariness in his face melted and is face fell as he spoke in low tone:

"Professor Dumbledore is dead. He died three days ago."

Rain still lacerated at his face mercilessly. Severus's jaw clenched in astonishment as a strange fear sank its claws in his heart. _Dumbledore dead? How? No, this couldn't be, he was supposed to be alive. Did the timeline change? But if so, why him? And how...?_ Setting his face into a blank expression, he demanded that the gamekeeper allow him to meet headmaster Dippet. He needed all the details of this incident. If Dumbledore was dead, the timeline was effectively botched which meant ruin for the world. He needed to speak with the current headmaster. Now more than ever was it imperative for him to find out the facts. HE glared at the man as he frowned in thought, apparently confused. Coming to a decision, the gullible fool nodded and let down the wards. Of course, Severus could have done so himself and would have if the man had denied him entry but keeping the pretence of a law abiding citizen was necessary. Not to mention the fact that the Headmaster would have enquired of his appearance from the gamekeeper. Entering the doors, he set of at a fast pace towards the castle.

He, no _they_, were stranded in 1944. Dumbledore was dead. He would never see Lily again. The fates were too cruel. Like him.

So, did you like it? I hope you did, please review

ELLESMERA


	7. Chapter 7 No Retreat

Disclaimer: I do not own this. Not making any profit off it either.

**AN** Hello everyone, I hope you like this one. Please read and review. It means so much for me if you take a few seconds to tell me how you like the story

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Chapter 7

As the last rays of the sun receded through the boarded up windows, Hermione finally managed to compose herself. The pain in her body had lessened further and her throat felt parched. She wondered about the number of days that she had been in this dark, gloomy room. Looking around, she noticed a small pitcher with a silver glass lying upon the bedside table. It was beautiful; the intricate carving upon it seemed almost surreal. Slowly pushing herself into a seating position, she reached out for the water with shaky hands. Pouring herself some, she quenched her thirst and felt immediately better. So much so that she could think and reason without feeling fatigued. Settling herself into a more comfortable position, she observed the objects around the room carefully. The room was sparsely furnished. The bed, the table and a cushion seat seemed to be the only occupants of this ancient looking quarter. The furniture was, oddly, new. She supposed Snape had conjured it; there could not be any other explanation for it. She was still bitter about his scathing words but her conscience could not feel righteous in cursing him as there had been truth in his words. She _had _been responsible for the mishap and _had _wrongly judged him to be her tormentor. Moreover, even though his words had been contemptuous, his actions had seemed contrary. He had prevented her fall and had healed her. For this at least, she was thankful. Still, his sharp words had run through her like knife and she had been reduced to a weeping wreck.

_When did I become so weak, _She wondered. Perhaps the war had taken away all her resolve, her strength and endurance. She had tried in the beginning of their marriage to put up a strong front but had failed miserably. No one could brave the incessant onslaught of his cruel words and contemptuous looks for long. She had broken, irrevocably, and there was nothing that would ever put together and reseal the shattered structure of her being. Nobody would bother to try.

And now she was stranded and alone, without a friend in the world. If what Snape had said was true, and the time device had indeed broken, there would be no return. She did not have enough knowledge of such devices but knew that if you broke one while in transit the time fabric would be torn. No one knew what happened then. No, she was most probably alone, now more so than ever. And to think she couldn't even raise herself enough to go in search of answers. She felt helpless and despair took over her.

Perhaps, it would be easier to die. To let the sweet ensnare of darkness surround her and snuff out her hollow and meaningless existence. To never wake up again. To never face loss and pain. To never have to see him again. To be unbridled and free, free as a bird. And see Ron. She would see Ron again. And feel loved. Cherished. She would never have to go through the painful trauma of compulsive coupling with a man who despised her. She closed her eyes for a minute to let those feelings of hope wash over her.

_No! Have you lost all reason, Hermione? You may not be the brave and strong girl you were anymore but you are not so weak as to seek death. It wouldn't solve anything; however you may wish it might. Death is the last enemy to be defeated, remember? No... Stop this nonsense at once! STOP!_

Her mental tirade taxed her energies to the utmost and she clutched at the sheets to gain some amount of control over her suicidal thoughts. It hadn't been long since she had contemplated this particular path last. But her reason had prevailed over her despair in that situation and she had reclaimed herself. She didn't want to die, not because life was worthwhile or because she had high hopes for future, but only because suicide had seemed as the coward's way out. She may not be the brave girl she once had been, but she was still a Gryffindor at heart and that meant strength and endurance. Even in her weakened state she had managed to quell those self-destructive thoughts. But this was all she had left. A mere token, a memento of the girl she once was. No, she wouldn't lose that last bit of herself. Not without a fight.

Drawing a few deep breaths, she composed herself and drank some more water. Even though she felt better, she was greatly weakened and would not even be able to cross the room without falling. She needed rest and she was well aware of the same. Her husband had been gone for a few hours now and she wasn't sure if he would return. She didn't even have her wand, not that she could have performed any charms in her state. She eased herself into the sheets even as her heart and mind were heavy with worry. Perhaps sleep would bring some peace. She closed her eyes and it was a testament to her weariness that she fell asleep in a few seconds.

* * *

He watched her, sitting in the comfortable armchair by the windows. The dark room enveloped the darkness that surrounded his soul. It had been midnight by the time he had returned. She was asleep in the bed he had transfigured out of a cot. He had cast one glance at her to check if all was alright with her and then receded into shadows. He had a lot on his mind tonight. His visit to Hogwarts had provided him with many answers and had raised many more questions. Dumbledore had, indeed, died under mysterious circumstances. Dippet had attributed it to dark magic but Severus knew better. His death and their arrival had to be connected. But the nature of connection was unknown to him. Apart from this, there were other matters that he had to consider. If his historical research served him right then the repercussions of such an incident would be catastrophic. Dark clouds were looming over Hogwarts, nay, over the entire continent. He was perplexed at the course of action. He had no obligations during this time period; he could simply leave and live in peace. On the other hand, he was the only one with a firm idea of what might transpire now that the timeline had been destroyed. He and Hermione, that is. But she was no longer a soldier. She was simply too weak for thought. No, if he stayed, he would be the only one responsible. But deciding the course of action was the more difficult path.

The smallest sound of a suppressed moan brought her into his focus again. She seemed to have woken up. He stared at her for a while before asking quietly,

"Are you in pain?"

She turned her head to the right, trying to discern his form in the darkness that surrounded him, and answered.

"No... I feel better now." She bit her lip as she gazed at him as if expecting him to reprimand her for the same.

He simply nodded before withdrawing into his thoughts. She lay there, examining the ceiling, a little too intently. His thoughts were too intertwined in the eventual fate of the wizarding world for him to be able to come to any conclusion. Sighing in frustration, he ran his hand through his dark hair before looking at the witch and speaking. No matter what decision he came to, she would be dragged into it and as such it would be pertinent to make her aware of the facts.

"I... we need to speak. It is important."She looked at him in apprehension. He looked straight into her brown eyes before continuing. "I went to Hogwarts. It is 1944." She looked at him with surprised eyes and then frowned as she nodded.

"It might surprise you to know that Professor Dumbledore is dead." He spoke carefully, in an expressionless tone of voice.

"Wh...What?" She said weakly, tears brimmed her eyes as she frowned in thought. "But it cannot be... He, that is, didn't die till 1997... Profe... I... It must be a mistake..." She looked at him entreatingly, perhaps hoping that he would refute his statement. He glanced at her coldly, sneering at her weakness before he continued.

"The timeline seems to have changed. The facts are as I have stated. Quit snivelling!" He snarled as further tears crossed the barriers of her eyelids. She winced at his venomous tone and clutched at the sheets in an effort to control herself. Standing up from the armchair, he began pacing throughout the length of the room.

"These are difficult times. More so as our _saviour_..." He grimaced at the word. "...has been snatched away prematurely. Do you realise that we can never return to the original time period, or if we did it wouldn't be the same? No, there can be no return." He said in a low voice and glanced at her puffed eyes that stared at him warily. She was taking in every word he said, analysing, double checking every possibility, he noticed. She hadn't changed in this aspect at least. Seeing her reach the same conclusion that he had a few hours ago, he resumed his explanation.

"And that conclusion brings other issues. If we are to stay here, then what are we to do? The knowledge of future, however disfigured it may now be, is still a potent weapon. Darker times than before are upon this continent..." She looked at him questioningly; it appeared that she had not followed his deduction. Curling his lip, he said, "Can you not think of anyone who might gain by Dumbledore's tragic demise? Or rather, two of them, considering the year?"

She stared hard at the carpet, no doubt searching her memory for the facts of history. Her eyes widened as she understood his meaning.

"No..." A soft whisper passed through her lips as she gulped and looked at him with a pale countenance. His jaw hardened and he nodded in affirmation that her deduction was indeed correct.

"Both Grindelwald and Lord Voldemort are alive and thriving in this time period. Voldemort, in fact, is the lesser of the two evils. Grindelwald has taken over the French ministry and it was only Dumbledore who checked his progression in this country. Now that that pillar has fallen, we do not know what would happen. He is the imminent enemy." He scowled in thought, running a caressing finger over his wand. "The other, Tom Riddle, is still at school. But in a few years, he would overshadow Grindelwald's power."

Hermione seemed to have gained enough composure in the face of these dark tidings. She seemed to be pondering over his words with caution and intent, he observed. She fidgeted with her sheets while she frowned in thought. After a while, she looked up at him and spoke apprehension still visible in her eyes.

"Does that mean another war?"

He studied her face for a long while before speaking in a neutral tone.

"No. Not yet. There is no one strong enough to stop them if war is declared." He said. "But seeing as we are stuck here unless a better alternative presents itself, waiting for the clouds of war to catch upon us would be foolish." She nodded at his pronouncement. "The question, dear _wife_, is if _we _should stay and get embroiled in another war or flee to better lands, perhaps another continent like America or Australia maybe." She flinched at his sarcastic remark upon their marriage. He paused before he said. "Those are two options. The third is that we go our separate ways. Alone."His black eyes glittered dangerously as he surveyed her thin form. Yes, it seemed more prudent to rest the decision with her. He would not shackle himself, even out of honour, to a girl who did not want him. Not that he wanted her, but his sense of honour would prevent him from abandoning her here. Honour was all he had left, he had lost all else.

His last words caused her surprise. _Go separate ways? Does he mean, no, probably not... But if not, then what does he mean? _Her lip trembled as she contemplated the meaning of his words. Yes, the world would be darker now. Without an effective way to restore the timeline, it would be disastrous to try returning to the original period. The world as they knew it was no more. Neither present nor past would hold familiarity. _Or friends and family._

She looked at him for the longest time, deep in thought before saying,

"The compulsive charms have lifted, I suppose." It was more of a statement than a question. She could no longer feel the magical menace running through her ring. "The marriage...?" She left her sentence unfinished, awaiting his response.

"... Cannot be dissolved, much to our mutual displeasure, I believe. Wizarding marriages entail a life-long _commitment_. The charm for compulsive copulation, however, was a ministry contrivance for a short period. It has, indeed, lifted." Seeing her open her mouth to ask another question, he cut across her before she could speak. "The mechanics of the same would be a futile thing to ponder upon. Especially, now, that we aren't faced with that problem. Meanwhile, you still have a decision to make." He snapped at her.

She wondered what she could say to him. Did she wish things were different? Yes, she did. Was she relieved that the compulsion would not play havoc with her life? Yes, undoubtedly. But she was still married to him and would always be. Till death claimed her or him, that is. Under these circumstances, did she want to part ways and move away? She didn't know. _And move where? To whom?_ She shook her head at the hopelessness of the situation... If she left here and moved, with or without him, she would leave behind an entire country in darkness. Not that her presence would matter much, if at all, but still did have knowledge. Her friends and family that would be born in future would perish before they could even have a fighting chance. And who was to say that darkness wouldn't follow her, them, wherever they went. After all, when did Dark Lords cease expansion after conquest? It would only be a matter of time before they followed. _Only a matter of time..._

She looked at Snape's hard face for a long time. Life with him was difficult, to say the least. Things would perhaps never change for better. But she knew where she stood with him. He hated her and she returned the sentiment, albeit in a somewhat mellow form. She could leave and find someone else, maybe, but she could never get married to them. She was a bit old fashioned in this regard; she did wish to honour her marriage agreement. _Even if he doesn't_, she mused wryly. But even if she found someone, they would still follow her. The dark powers would never cease upon their quest. She would always be a prey. She could hide only for so long. They would eventually catch up with her. With Snape, perhaps, she would have a chance of survival. If he talked about getting embroiled in war, he must have hope for victory. He wouldn't have suggested it if the chances were nil. No, regardless of how she felt about him, she knew he would never harm her. Not intentionally, at least, verbal remarks aside. And she was still married to him, for Merlin's sake. She could never run away from that. No, she would do the honourable thing and fight, even if she didn't have the strength anymore.

"I... I will stay..." She looked at the floor as she whispered, unsure of her words. "If... that is... it is acceptable..." She bit her lip once more and glanced at him. He lifted a single brow, perhaps in mild surprise, and gave her a curt nod.

"Very well... We will be leaving for Hogwarts then, in two days' time." He spoke in his usual tone, demanding full attention. "You will be completely healed by then. Perhaps, it would be an opportunity to finish your N.E. as well, while you're there." He curled his lip at the hopeful expression on her face. Knowledge was her weakness as well as strength.

"Sir... um, if I may... w.. why Hogwarts, that is.. I" She faltered and stopped mid-sentence at the annoyed expression on his face. Perhaps she had crossed the line now. She waited for the snide remark that would come and cut her across.

"Can you think of no reason why Hogwarts would be the best place to be at right now, Miss Granger?" He smirked at her dumbfounded expression before continuing, "I have accepted the position vacated by Professor Dumbledore's untimely demise... Think long and hard about why going to Hogwarts would be the most beneficial option... And whilst there, I implore you to exercise utmost caution in your dealings. "He spoke in a low voice, "These are dangerous times. I would not have your death upon my conscience as well..."

"Food is at the table. You are strong enough to move around." He remarked as he crossed the room in long strides but paused at the door. He drew a familiar looking ebony wand out of his robes and laid it upon the table beside the window. Without looking at her again, he left, robes billowing dangerously in his wake.

Hermione recognised the wand as her own. Relief flooded her being and she could only mutter a silent _Thanks_. Even if she couldn't quite muster the strength to reach for it, she felt relieved at having it near her. Hermione lay back, resting her head on the pillow, and closed her eyes.

The two inmates of that small cottage both had restless nights. The storm grew in intensity as they lay in their respective beds, wondering and waiting. When sleep claimed them after a long time, it was disturbed and broken. Oddly, they had no nightmares that night. She did not see her dead lover in her sleep for the first time in six months. He did not mourn Lily that night, in his sleep, for the first time in twenty years.

Please Review..


	8. Chapter 8 An Encounter

**AN: Hello everyone, here's another chapter. I would be posting weekly from now on as other duties call. Now, please leave me a review after you read this. And also, tell me if you'd like the ultimate pairing to be TR/HG or SS/HG. I can do both. I have quite a lot of scenarios planned out for either of the two. Oh, and do tell me if you would like longer chapters. And yes, DO tell me if you like where this is going or if you want me to change stuff. I really need feedback and would appreciate the same. PLEASE REVIEW.**

Enjoy!

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Chapter 8

The autumn morning had descended upon the castle in its golden glory. The Great Hall was visibly out of spirits following Dumbledore's demise but a few announcements had piqued the students' interest. A new transfiguration professor had been hired. A ministry inquiry into the strange event had been set up. They would be examining the castle for residues of any dark magic that may have been responsible for Dumbledore's death. Not that Tom believed that that was the case. Dark magic had not caused his death, Tom was sure. He was convinced of some connection between the forces that had rattled him on the same day that Dumbledore had died. He hadn't intimated the ministry officials of the same of course. That would be rather foolish, he would be drawn into affairs for which he had neither time nor sentiment, not to mention that he had wanted to conduct a private research on the seemingly inexplicable occurrence. _One could gain a lot by keeping secrets_

It had only been a few days without Dumbledore's annoying presence but already Tom felt uninhibited and free. He had spent quite a long time in the restricted section of the library foraying through difficult texts in alien languages seeking answers. But he had been unlucky so far. _Not for long, though, not for long,_ he smirked as he sipped his pumpkin juice silently. Sitting in one corner at the Slytherin table, aided by his erect figure and aristocratic features, he had an air of commanding authority about his person. Both the seats on his either side were empty, no one would dare assume enough familiarity to sit near him. _Yes, fear was indeed an effective motivator,_ he mused as he glanced at his housemates. His followers were engaged in an inane conversation about Quidditch, Malfoy being the lead conversationalist in this regard.

"…Utter folly, I tell you! The nerve of them, I mean to disregard the traditions and drop Quidditch… Wait till I tell my father about this…." He huffed indignantly, like the spoiled brat that he was, before continuing "… And all because the bumbling codger died! I mean whoever took him seriously…" His voice had grown too loud to remain unnoticed. Tom observed a few Ravenclaws give Malfoy scandalised looks as he continued his tirade. This had gone too far. They never could really learn the meaning of discretion, could they?

"Malfoy…" He spoke quietly but menacingly. The boy flinched at being addressed directly by him. All the Slytherins had turned to look at Malfoy, aware that he was in deep trouble. They were too clever to look at him, Tom. _Good for them_, Tom thought.

"I would _advise_ you to keep your personal opinions to yourself. They are not appreciated at this table… The headmaster has done what he deemed fit for the security of the students and I would implore you to see _reason_…" He fingered his knife as he spoke, quietly, softly, in an amiable tone. But no one at the table was fooled. No one who knew him, that is. Raising his cold, grey eyes from the perfectly buttered toast to meet Abraxas's frightened ones, he raised one eyebrow to tell him to compose himself and that he would deal with him later. Malfoy swallowed and averted his eyes, having lost all his appetite, and picked at his scrambled eggs. Satisfied with his intimidation, Tom turned to look at the head table.

The new transfiguration teacher, Professor Snape, sat there observing the student body with an inscrutable expression on his face. He was seemingly unfazed by the curious looks being shot at him by the students. He hardly touched his food and was ignoring all attempts at conversation thrown his way by Professor Donovan. True, she was rather flippant and vulgar, in Tom's opinion, but the Professor didn't know her yet. Perhaps he was unsociable, a recluse shrinking from the society. Tom could understand that. He himself never saw the joys of companionship. People were rather pathetic and dull, always predictable with their conscientious takes on values and morals and all the rubbish things in the world. They were fit enough only for rule and that too because there was no better option. Shaking his head, he examined the time table at his desk. He had transfiguration as the first class of the day_. Well, time to waste exceptional talent and energies in another idiotic fool's lesson for a silly grade_, he thought as he got up from the table and left to retrieve his bag from the head's dormitories. At least he had his own room this year, owing to his position as the head boy. He never observed as a pair of black eyes followed his graceful departure from the hall, noticing his every move.

* * *

Hermione sat in the transfiguration classroom, playing with her quill, as she pondered upon the events of the preceding days. She was twenty minutes early, which meant that the class was almost empty except for one mousy haired girl sitting at the back of the class. She had been sorted into Gryffindor as Hermione Lafayette, a distant acquaintance of Professor Snape. She stifled a giggle at this, picturing the looks of horror that this pronouncement would have elicited from her friends two years ago. As if becoming aware of the existence of mirth in her, she frowned in surprise. She had smiled and giggled, in jest. How curious. It wasn't that curious though. Returning to an unblemished Hogwarts of the past had had some sort of restorative effect on her, it seemed. She had a dormitory all to herself, owing to the fact that they couldn't accommodate her in the seventh year one and the warmth of the familiar Gryffindor surroundings had eased her panicked nerves. She felt calmed. Her housemates had not noticed her much due to the simple fact that she had spent most of her time in the library and her dormitory. A few of them had noticed her at the dining table and some had ventured to speak with her as well. They had been nice people. But as of now, she did not have friends yet. Acquaintances, maybe, but not friends.

A few things bothered her though. She knew that Voldemort went to school during this time period but she hadn't seen him yet. Not that she had made an effort anyway. Soon she would have to, in order to be on her guard against him. She had been told, no ordered, to keep a low profile while at school. Snape, damn the man for his formidable antics, had drilled his expectations of her behaviour into her head.

_He paced to and fro in front of her bed as she sat on the mattress, knees drawn to her chest, listening to his cold drawl._

"_Remember, you must not be noticed. Any such observation would be perilous to us, girl. Also, you must not seek me in any manner during the year, apart from study matters of course. I would not have you ruining my carefully laid plans." He spoke dangerously, the glint in his eyes made her wince._

_She opened her mouth to ask what his plans were but thought better of it at the feral look on his face. _

"_Though I have introduced you to Dippet as a distant acquaintance, it is no reason to announce the same to your friends. Under no circumstances other than mortal danger are you to contact me in any way unconventional to the relationship between a teacher and a student. Am I understood? "The hard edge in his voice made her cringe as she nodded mutely. It wasn't as if she wanted to seek him out for make out sessions anyway. _

"_You will study diligently and finish your school year without any mistakes, girl. Make sure, no mistakes. Ah… and on no account are you to reveal that you're a …muggleborn. " He chewed every word as he spoke, towering above her, sneering. Her indignant spirit had flared a bit at this remark but she could not summon the energy to argue. She knew he was right. Prejudices never changed, at least not in people's minds. Especially in this age. The rebel spirit she had had once was gone. She could not fight anew. She was too tired. And broken_

So, she had kept her silence and discretion. She intended to keep it in future as well and for that she could not have many friends. She did not want to face her husband's wrath in case she slipped and they were exposed. But now, as she sat in the empty classroom that reminded her of the bygone days, she was oddly content. Perhaps, comfortable places carry the heart-warming quality of remembrance in them. She shook her head at this odd thought. Only a few minutes were left for the class to begin now. The students were filing in. She watched as Gryffindors filed in, eyeing the Slytherin body with disgust and mistrust. _Some things never changed_, she snorted at the obvious display of antagonism.

The seat beside her was still empty. Maybe she wouldn't get a partner. She didn't really mind, it would be better for her to not associate with other students. She noticed that the class had divided into two factions of colours. The Gryffindors sat on the right hand side while the Slytherins sat on the left. She was seated on the first bench, in the middle row that seemed to divide the two factions in her mind.

She wondered what the class would be like. She had been taught Defence and Potions by Snape but she had never heard of his flair for transfiguration. She wondered if he had any. But then, she knew him to be an exceptionally gifted wizard. Perhaps he would be just as good, if not better. Just then, the door flew open and the object of her musings walked in, robes billowing menacingly behind him as he walked to the head of the class.

The students fell immediately silent, not knowing where they stood in the new teacher's regard. It was always better to assess the teacher before indulging in mischiefs. The Professor surveyed the class with a cold, hard look upon his face. He seemed to be committing their faces to his memories. Hermione noticed that a few perceptive students shifted uneasily under his gaze. The rest, blissfully unaware of the torture session about to begin, smiled politely at the professor, waiting for introductions and other pleasantries. He curled his lip in disdain at them before speaking.

"I have no interest in your names, my work here is to hone your obviously mediocre skills in the art of transfiguration…." He paused, perhaps to gauge the impact of his sharp words, before continuing, "Your previous Professor's instruction, though according to syllabus, has been quite _inadequate_." A few Slytherins sniggered at this. Hermione fumed. "Be that as it may, the sorry task to train you bumbling minds falls to me. I demand complete attention and rigorous hard work, failing which, you would bear the brunt of my _displeasure_. And believe me when I say this, when I am done with you, you would prefer to have been put under the Cruciatus curse." He finished with a cruel sneer as Hermione nodded at his statement. A few of her ex-classmates had compared his detentions to the Cruciatus curse. Not that she had ever been on the receiving end of his detentions.

Around her, the uneasy faces of her new classmates grew sombre at the Professor's unusual announcement. Most transfiguration teachers were amiable. Hell, most teachers at the school were gentle and kind. This dark haired man seemed rather scary, like some villain from their favourite fairy tale. Even the Slytherins seemed wary of the new teacher. They looked at him carefully, calculating his meaning and weighing his every word. At that moment, the door opened slowly to reveal a handsome Slytherin boy with an apologetic look upon his face.

"I am sorry, Professor, for my lateness. I was detained by Professor Slughorn regarding some duties and ran afoul of time." He moved gracefully, Hermione noticed, obviously impressed with the boy's charming manners. He handed the note to Professor Snape and stood in front of him with downcast eyes. "May I please be allowed to sit in the class.?" He spoke quietly, his tone one of apology and sincerity.

Snape examined the note and nodded to the boy without taking his eyes off the note. The boy's gaze swept across the classroom, seemingly scouring for empty seats. The only one left was beside Hermione. Plastering a charming smile upon his face he sat down near her, placing his bag beside the chair. He nodded to her in acknowledgement before turning to his bag.

Hermione wondered who this polite boy was. He seemed quite unlike other Slytherins. His gentle countenance, polite manners and easy grace were quite endearing. But then again, he was a Slytherin. Out of habit, she was wary of them. Still eyeing him with curiosity, she drew out her quill and parchment. But obviously, her curiosity would not suffer for too long. The Professor spoke as soon as she drew out her quill.

"I believe your _reason _to be _genuine_." Snape said, fixing her partner with a dark gaze as he drew close to their seats. "However, tardiness in my class on any account is a punishable offence, regardless of the circumstances. You would do well to remember that…. Mr Riddle." He spoke in an expressionless tone of voice before drawing away. Perhaps he deducted points from the house. Perhaps he didn't. Perhaps he was still teaching. Perhaps he left the class. Hermione did not know. Her head started to spin as soon as she heard the boy's name from Snape's lips.

The Professor had started to lecture but Hermione could not concentrate. _Tom Riddle_. Her hands started shaking and she could not steady the quill in her hand. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead as she made an effort to restrain the involuntary responses that Snape's announcement had evoked in her. The future bane of the wizarding world was seated beside her, smiling genially. Her heart throbbed painfully in her chest as fear constricted her remaining senses. She shifted to the edge of her seat, clutching hard at the arms of her chair. This was the man responsible for all the pain in her life. Her parents' death, Ginny's corpse, Ron's mangled lifeless form: the images of all these flashed through her eyes as she sat at the edge, crouching in fear. Her mind was numb, her hands rested listlessly on the parchment, her quill had fallen to the ground.

Soon, she started hyperventilating. Her breath became laboured as red and black spots appeared before her eyes. Clutching at her chest, she held on to the chair. She could not keep up anymore and consciousness started to evade her. Her ears throbbed with a siren like whirring sound. _Surely, someone must have noticed her discomfiture by now. Why was no one helping her?_

"Um... excuse me, Professor… Pardon my interruption, but the lady seems to be ill." Tom donned an expression of concern on his face and faced the Professor. "Might I escort her to the Hospital Wing?" He asked, worry laced across his chiselled features.

By this time, Hermione had laid her head upon the table and was coughing softly. Snape stared at her with a tight lipped expression and glanced back at Tom. A flicker of worry crossed his eyes as he looked into Tom's fathomless grey eyes. He nodded imperceptibly and turned away as Tom gently placed an arm under the girl's and supported her way towards the door. Severus wore a blank mask on his face as they left and turned to the class, his mood obviously affected by the events.

"Open your books to page 9!" He snarled at them. A round cheeked boy near the front toppled out of his seat. "Read the introduction. One word out of your incompetent mouths and an entire week of detention! Now!" He bellowed at the class that cowered before his rage before turning his back upon them.

He settled back in his chair, deep in thought as the students dug into the heavy tome to escape the new bad tempered teacher. He stared at his wand for a long time before coming to a decision. He would have to risk this. The thought of Hermione being alone with the young Dark Lord unnerved him but he would have to risk it. Not that he thought Tom would dare harm her presently. Not yet. But he could not go inquiring after them. He knew the reason for Hermione's illness. He had noticed her panic as soon as he had uttered the boy's name. He had done it on purpose, he had to admit, to make her aware of who she was staring at with that ridiculous adoring expression on her face. He grimaced as that thought crept into his mind. No, his reasoning had had genuine value. But the slight lapse of judgement had cost him his peace of mind. Even at this young age, the Dark Lord was crafty. He had probably seen that he had displeased a figure who held authority over him. To remedy that, he had seized at the first opportunity to prove his reliability and kindness. Hermione hadn't really been aware of who helped her walk. She was perhaps too dazed to notice. Soon she would notice her benefactor. _I hope, for her sake and mine, she handles it carefully this time,_ he thought wryly. It was a fool's hope and he knew it.

* * *

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	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Hello every one. Here's another. Please read and review. I am not getting enough feedback and I need it to be motivated enough to write more chapters. So please, if you like my story, leave me a few notes of criticism or appreciation and your ideas as well. If they fit with the plot, I will incorporate them into the story. Please read and review. **

**Cheers**

Chapter 9

* * *

_Here, we lie awake, in this darkened night, with entwined hands and weep. I know you have lost all and I had nothing to begin with. You have created me, a perfect image of an imperfect mind, and for that I shall be faithful to you. _

* * *

The transfiguration corridor seemed deserted for the most part. Tom still supported the bushy haired girl as he walked with easy steps. She was almost bent double, whether in pain or something else, Tom did not know. He could see that she was straining to keep her mind and body working. It did her little good though. She did not seem aware of much at this point. Her grip on Tom's hand was painful. It was as if she held on to his shirt sleeve for dear life. Tom scrunched up his nose at her weak form. He would have cursed her and left if only the Professor and the entire class hadn't known that he would be escorting her to the Hospital Wing. He swore in his mind as the girl stumbled and he had to adjust his hold to catch her fall. He could have let her fall. He should have let her fall.

He frowned as she staggered once more and sought the wall for more support. Why was he here again? Oh yes, the new Professor seemed to have acquired a dislike for him on the first day and he had simply wanted to leave his class to plan and strategize ways and means of getting into the man's good graces. What better way than to sacrifice your study hour for another human's _well-being_. He snorted at that thought. He looked at the girl once more who hadn't really opened her eyes since she had leaned on the desk in class, coughing. She still rested her back against the wall, her breathing shallow while she held on to his sleeve. He wanted to shrug off her hold but couldn't do it as he stared at the ailing girl. He did not know her and this bothered him. He had made efforts to acquaint himself with every student's details. She was not one of them. Hell, he didn't even know her name. Her plain features and frail frame made her look fragile and weak. She was not attractive at all. She was probably below average. No wonder he might not have noticed her. Still, it perturbed him. He could not allow laxity on anyone's part. Not even his own.

And the Professor seemed to have seen right through his façade. He did not swoon and accept his charming apology like other Professors did. No, this teacher seemed different. A few more seconds flitted by and the girl stayed leaning against the wall. Tom was now deeply annoyed. First, he did not know her. Second, she wasted _his_ precious time and was continuing to do so. He couldn't attack her, not yet and certainly not here. He wanted to be rid of her soon. He had work to do. He shook her a little by hand to rouse her from her restful _leaning_.

"Hello… excuse me, could you move _please_? We must be getting to the Nurse, I'm afraid.'' He spoke in what he believed was a polite tone. His face was set into a polite mask whereas his eyes were cold and hard. But she did not see him. She was still trying to gain composure from her breakdown earlier.

Hermione had seemingly relaxed by now. Her breathing was still strained and her head ached a bit but she no longer felt dizzy. She steadied herself, making an effort to move. But before she could do so, she heard a soft voice entreating her to move. It was polite and kind but there was something wrong with it. Its gentle tone seemed distant and unfeeling. She had heard it before. A few minutes ago perhaps. _In the class, beside her…_

Her eyes flew wide open in horror as she realised who was supporting her. Dumbstruck, she stood there staring at him with fear. Then, still in shock, she let go of his supporting arm, her fingers still hanging in the air. She had calculated wrongly in the subconscious of her mind. Her legs gave way and she crashed to the floor. She bent over at the impact, the hard floor seeming to jolt her out of her shock. A hand reached for her shoulder and she blinked at the floor before registering its presence.

"NO!" She shouted and recoiled from him, hitting the wall behind her. Tom seemed surprised at the vehement disgust and fear etched in the plain lines of her face. He frowned and seeming to decide something walked a step towards her fallen from. It was a mistake.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" She shrieked as he touched her arm and did something he had not expected. She looked around for someone, anyone who could help her. But the corridor was deserted and she was alone. The perceived danger made her wary and she tried to overcome her fear and anxiety for the time being. Now was not the time to think. Not when the young Dark Lord was standing inches away from you. Balling her sweaty palms into fists, she aimed and punched him in the crotch. Without waiting to see what she had done, she ducked to the side as he yelped in obvious pain and fell on his knees. She was sitting on the floor on his back as she crawled away from his prone form. She tried to get up and run but failed miserably. Her legs seemed to have turned liquid and she could only gape at his face with open mouth. It was contorted in pain and anger. In a few seconds, it must have lessened as he flicked his wrist and a pale wand landed in his hands. He was still on his knees and he still stared at the floor, only the furrowed brows and painfully clenched teeth giving away the state of agony he was in.

Hermione's eyes registered the presence of wand in his hand and knew what was to ensue. Her heart throbbed painfully in her chest as she drew out her wand with trembling hands. She was still lying on the floor staring up at him with fear and trepidation. Self-preservation instincts weren't easy to forego. She knew he would kill her if he got to attack first. But there were no defences against the killing curse. She pointed her wand at him, he thin scarred fingers still shaking. She watched as he stood up and turned towards her with a crimson flash of anger in his eyes. She was afraid.

_What do I do? He will kill me now. After everything, I shall die here, in this manner and without anyone to mourn me…_ She blinked at that thought. Lord Voldemort still stared at her with a blank expression on his face, his wand his wand hand carelessly hung by his side. Would it be so bad to die then? If there was no one to cry when she died, what had she to lose? She might even gain something, perhaps_. But I would not go without a fight. Not at his hands. No! _ Attack was the best form of defence, she knew. With this thought in mind, wand still pointed steadily at him, she moved her wand in an intricate pattern and swiftly fired a blue curse at him. Its strength was formidable.

"_Seco!" _

But Tom was too quick for her. He narrowed his eyes at her and deflected the dark curse with ease. Like one flicks away an irksome fly. She knew what would come next and as she crawled backwards on one hand still, she threw up the strongest shield she knew with swift motion. A deep brown orb of light surrounded her as she watched Tom with obvious apprehension. She did not wait long for as soon as she had erected her shield, he flicked his wand in a lazy star gold pattern and shattered it. She knew she was lost now. Her wand was still held in her hand, but she had forgotten all about it as she looked into Voldemort's reddening eyes. The depth of anger and rage in them frightened her. She stayed transfixed as he walked towards her with careful echoing footsteps. She was rooted to the spot in fear and did not notice as her wand flew out of her hand at his silent _Expelliarmus_.

He reached her cowering being and grabbed her bushy hair from behind as he dug his wand into her throat. She whimpered in pain. She knew she had lost. _I guess this is it then, perhaps. Death...I wonder how it feels, I wonder what it shows..._

"Why did you attack me?" He growled at her, pulling at her hair to hurt her as much as he could. She looked at him, a painful cry erupted from her throat at his action, but she was…. Puzzled. _Why? Didn't he know why? He is Voldemort for Christ's sake! Who wouldn't attack him in defence if they had the chance! _She still looked at him with uncomprehending eyes. This seemed to aggravate him further and he grabbed her throat this time, painfully before throwing her against the wall.

"Who are you?" He asked forcefully, as she slumped against the wall and groaned in pain at the impact. _What the hell is he playing at? Why doesn't he just kill me and be done with it? I … I would be in a better place, wouldn't I? _

But Voldemort had drawn away from her presently. Her brain seemed to have cleared a little as she noticed sounds. Footsteps. She was still confused as he frowned and grabbed her arm raising her to her feet. He dragged her painfully to the other end of the corridor. He was going to take her somewhere and torture her. She looked at his strong hand gripping her arm and the two wands held in the other hand even as she staggered behind him. No. Not so easily.

With that thought she gathered all her strength and kicked him on the knee and bit his hand. He fell forward, he was not expecting her to attack in the crude muggle way. Before he could react, she punched his face. He swore as he fell on his knees once more, holding his nose. The wands in his hands had fallen to the side. She backed away from him and thought furiously. Adrenaline had worked its way and her head had cleared. Within a few seconds she had made up her mind, and with quickness she did not know she possessed, she picked up her wand from his side and ran. She ran with all her strength without looking backwards once. She ran like the minions of Satan were at her heels and did not stop till she reached the Gryffindor portrait hole. She panted as she stood supporting herself with her palms against the wall.

"Spit..fire." She murmured the password in a low voice to the fat lady who swung forward to let her in. She was eyeing her curiously as she noted her dishevelled appearance.

Stumbling through the doorway, Hermione walked with seemingly steady steps towards her dormitory. Swinging open the door with a little more force than necessary, she entered her room and crossed the distance to her bed with faltering steps and collapsed on it. Here, in the darkness of her room, she broke down completely.

* * *

_She was standing near the edge of a cliff. It was a stormy night. The rumbling sounds of the oncoming tempest did not scare her anymore. The heavy raindrops fell fast on her face and her tears dissolved in them. She looked up at the sky, blankly, for a long time. Dressed in a flimsy nightgown, the onslaught of the heavenly arrows was doubled in intensity. She shivered as more raindrops assaulted her. She looked down at her muddied feet. Sitting in daze for a long time, she forgot the storm that raged and ravished her. Drawing a deep breath, she moved towards the edge. She dragged her footsteps in the mud, her mind numb and unfeeling. Just another step and it would be over._

"_Hermione!" A familiar voice roused her from the distant reverie. It was Harry. He stood a few feet behind her, his hand outstretched. She turned to face him._

"_What do you want, Harry?" She stared at the ground as she spoke in a quiet voice. He had walked up to her and was closer now._

"_Why…?" He grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently. Rain splattered his face as he looked at her with anguished emerald eyes._

"_He's gone… Harry. They're all gone. I… I have nothing left." Even the clamouring thunder couldn't hide the quiver in her voice. He stared at her, with empty eyes, unmindful of the incessant onslaught that torrential rain brought upon both of them._

"_Yes… You have nothing left to live for." He spoke harshly. She flinched as she looked at him surprised. She had not expected him to say this. He continued in gentler tone, "But you are alive… And so am I..."_

_She looked at him, nonplussed. He smiled mournfully at her as if he wished otherwise. She did too. That was why she was there._

_Then, standing at the edge of an endless world, she decided to live till death claimed her. She was alive merely because she survived. She would breathe and go on. It did not matter anymore. _

_She was drawn into a warm embrace in the cold night. She did have someone left after all. Even if he was far more broken that she had been. Even if…_

Her eyes opened suddenly as she missed the comfort of that friendly hug. She was confused at first as she stared into the darkness around her and realised that she had been dreaming. The blinds in her room let sliced helpings of moonlight onto the floor. With trembling hands, she touched her face. The sheets about her were a tangled mess. Just a dream. All she had were dreams. Perhaps, not even them. _Oh Ron,_ she bit her lip to stop herself from crying._ I cannot go on for long like this. It hurts to be alive. It hurts. I thought there was a limit to how many times a person could break. But it seems otherwise. It doesn't stop. _

She lay down in her bed again looking blankly at the ceiling. The day's events had unhinged her. She had attacked the young Dark Lord. He would be out for her blood now. Not that she minded or was scared of death. But she certainly did not enjoy the pain he would undoubtedly inflict on her before killing her. She thought over the day's events and realised how irrational her actions had been. Voldemort hadn't attacked her outright. He was perhaps supporting her in movement. Merlin, this was a perfectly natural façade for him. Dumbledore had talked about the kind and helpful mask Tom wore while in school. _Perhaps he was simply escorting me to the Hospital Wing_, she thought wryly. He wouldn't have killed her outright, not when he knew he would be blamed for it. And she had attacked him first. Merlin, she had punched him in the groin. The Dark Lord. A strange giggle erupted from her as she thought about it. This had to be a record. No one had ever kicked the Dark Lord in the crotch, she was sure. But now she had. And she would probably pay for it with her life. An excruciating payment.

She wondered if she should tell Snape. It was a life or death matter after all. But she cringed at the thought of having to relay to him her actions of the day. Also, he had allowed Tom to escort her knowing fully well who he was. Her heart clenched as she realised that he didn't care if she would be in danger. _No then, Hermione. He served you to the young Dark Lord, literally. There is no way you are going to him for help. And after today, perhaps you should finish your N.E.W.T.S. (if you can before you're dead) and leave. Yes, it would be better, I will not stay for the sake of a marriage that means nothing to him. Even if it means spending my life alone and friendless. I will not be an unwanted burden. Well, that was if she survived the next day._

With these thoughts swirling in her mind, she drifted off into an uncomfortable sleep.

* * *

Severus paced his office room in fervent thought. He had been worried when he had not found the girl in the Hospital Wing. But her head of house had confirmed her presence in the Gryffindor dormitory. He had breathed a sigh of relief at this. He knew it had been extremely dangerous to let her leave with young Voldemort but he had had no choice. He wondered what he should do. Something had certainly transpired between the girl and the boy. She hadn't attended classes the rest of the day and he wondered if there had been some kind of mishap. He frowned as the thought crossed his mind. No, he would have known if she were in mortal danger. The wedding ring would have alerted him of it. But something had indeed happened and he needed to know. Perhaps he would assign her a detention. Yes, that would do.

Shaking his head, he turned towards the table and glanced at the book that lay propped open on it. This was another cause of worry to him. The tear in the time fabric that their accident had caused could not be restored. And its repercussions were catastrophic. There were very few solutions to the danger they found themselves in. Very few. Walking to his chair, he gripped its arms and slumped dejectedly into it. There was a pile of books nearby on the table by his desk, all documenting the events that concerned him. He had to study them soon. Before time ran out for both of them.

Before delirium set in, that is.

**Please read and review. I feel so disinclined to write when I get no feedback. Cheers.**


	10. Chapter 10 Ties that gag

**AN**: Hello everyone. Here's another chapter, I hope you like it. Please read and review. And thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the previous one. Each review makes me so happy. Thank you. Do let me know of your suggestions and thoughts.

Ellesemera

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Chapter 10

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_I am afraid of the day. When the rays of sun bring you hope, I cannot help but shudder. My heart is cold and I am afraid. The warmth that I once felt can never be mine again. My childhood dreams have fled the realm of my existence and so have I._

* * *

The day dawned too soon for her liking. Hermione still lay in the same position as last night. She hadn't been able to sleep. Whether it was the grim anticipation of what lay ahead or the sheer hopelessness of her life that kept her in numb despair, she could not say. The mild and reluctant sun rays seeping through the window pricked her unseeing gaze. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again. Turning her eyes toward the window she looked out and glanced at the vast expanse of the Hogwarts Grounds. The game keeper seemed to be dragging something from his hut towards the forest. The sky looked grey and ominous, even with the innocent sun making efforts to break through the tumultous clouds. It succeeded at times. At times.

Her head felt dizzy and ached from lack of sleep. It wouldn't do to go back to sleep even if she wished to. She couldn't miss another day of classes. Even if mortal peril lay along the way_. I am awfully cheerful today, aren't I? _ She sighed softly and turned her head away from the window. She got up from bed and slowly went to the bathroom. The pounding in her head grew worse with every step she took but she could not help it. She would have to bear it. Taking a quick shower, she went back to her dormitory without looking at anyone in the common room and settled herself in the bed. Drawing her time-table, she scanned it for Thursday and let out a breath. Transfiguration would be the last class that day.

But she was worried. Worried about what would happen to her the moment she stepped out of the Gryffindor Tower. The snake would lie in wait to ambush her, she was sure, but when and how? She was worried that she had to be on her guard every second of the day. No, she was terrified of venturing outdoors. But she could not stay in. She might be a lot of things but she was not a coward. She would not crawl into a hole and lie in wait for danger and death to catch up on her. No, she was better than that. She shook her head at this thought. _You still seem to have some pride left, Hermione, _she thought wryly. Tucking her wand to a sheath encircling her arm, she got up and smoothening her skirt she marched out of the room.

When she entered the Great Hall, she had her haywire nerves almost under control. She had been on a look out for any surprise attacks and had crept carefully through the corridors. She had been a bit relieved when she reached the doors to the Great Hall. Donning a stoic countenance, she moved towards the Gryffindor Table and seated herself in a corner. She kept her eyes downcast and refused to look at anybody but the food in front of her. At the same time, she was quite aware of all that went around her. Nibbling on a piece of toast, she listened as her neighbouring girls chattered in glee.

"… So did you hear? There is to be a masquerade ball…." A blonde girl with freckles announced animatedly.

"….. Really? Oh my….!" Her neighbour squealed excitedly. "Last year was such a fiasco…."

"Yes well, I hope this Halloween would be better than the last time…" A girl with flaming red hair commented.

Hermione thought she looked like she could be a Weasley. Yes, it was possible. She scanned the girl for a few second before returning to her toast. None of them paid her any attention. She wasn't complaining. She was in the middle of her second toast when she felt the heated gaze of someone on her face. She looked up and blanched to see Tom Riddle staring at her from across the hall. He looked straight into her eyes with a blank expression on her face. No visible gesture or expression gave away the disgust and hatred that she saw in his eyes. The wrath that lay in check behind his grey orbs was one that left Hermione shaken and she gulped. Her fork shook in her hand as she lowered her eyes to get herself calmed.

"Hmm…. Tom seems to be interested in you….He has been staring at you for a long while now" The redheaded girl near her spoke. Hermione did not respond to this.

"Well, you are lucky then, aren't you? He is rather elegant and handsome…." The blonde looked at her wistfully as she spoke. Hermione still stared resolutely at the table before her, not responding to any of these comments.

"It's Hermione, isn't it?" The blonde spoke again, this time extending a hand towards Hermione. "I am Rosanelle." She smiled.

This time Hermione looked at her and eyes travelled twice from her face to her hand before she nodded and spoke quietly. "Yes, it is nice to meet you."

"I saw you in class yesterday. You… um were taken ill?" Rosanelle spoke hesitantly.

Hermione nodded slightly at this and fumbled with the napkin in her lap. She could still fell Riddle's gaze upon her and she internally shuddered at the thought of what lay in wait for her. She needed to get out. Replacing the fork in her plate, she smile faintly at Rosanelle who was eyeing her with interest and spoke:

"Excuse me, but I have to get to the Defence class." And hoping that the girl wouldn't be offended by her abrupt departure, she got up and quickly left the hall. Once outside, she rested against the wall. Why was it so difficult for her? It seemed as if she couldn't bear normal conversation anymore. The girl had tried to be friendly to her. Offered her friendship… Friends. No. She shook her head. _It hurts too much to lose them._ She would not do this again. _No friends. No one._

She traversed the way to the Defence classroom with wary steps. She had been on her guard and so far nothing had occurred. But she was waiting. Because she knew he would strike. He, too, was waiting.

Defence was taught by an attractive witch who went by the name of Isadora Donovan. So far, and it was only her third day, she hadn't heard much about her. To be honest, Hermione's first impression of her was far from pleasant. She looked nice enough but there was a coldness in her eyes that cut through you like ice. When Hermione entered the class, it was empty save for one or two students. The Professor, too, seemed absent. Hermione sat in a corner seat and opened her text book. She felt tired and ill. She wondered what the teacher would lecture upon and if her class would be too strenuous. She waited for a while before the class began to fill in. A soft plop beside her alarmed her to the fact that she had a partner now.

"Hello, again… You were rather abrupt with Rosanelle, weren't you?" The redheaded girl spoke to her with a smile. Hermione felt conflicted regarding her answer. Should she nod and accept her mistake or should she feign ignorance. In the end, she settled for a shrug and turned back towards her book. Riddle, too, had arrived by this time and was seated at the back with his cronies. She shivered in discomfort as she felt his gaze upon her. She was truly afraid now. She could not even begin imagine how he would exact his revenge upon her. _Are you kidding, Hermione? This is Lord Voldemort. He will kill you. _She closed her eyes to soothe herself and focused back upon her book. By this time, the Professor had entered the classroom and was calling out students' names.

If Hermione had thought the Professor beautiful before, she changed her opinion now. She was breath-taking in appearance and graceful in her charms. The entire male population of the class seemed to hang on to her words and her luscious form. Everyone except Tom Riddle, that is. Hermione snorted at this observation. Of course he wouldn't. He would need a heart to feel emotions. Something he did not have.

"Ah… a new student, I see… Miss Hermione Lafayette…" The Professor's silvery voice roused her from her musings. She looked at her questioningly, as if expecting her to say something, but seeing no comment forthcoming, she turned back to the attendance sheet. Hermione simply looked at her. _What had she expected her to say_? She frowned as the Professor announced that they would be doing a revision of Patronus charms. Those were quite easy. Well, not for everyone, but for her they were. Although… she hadn't cast a Patronus for quite some time now. She ran a hand over the smooth surface of her wand as the Professor continued with her lecture.

"I believe that we all had a chance to learn, at least in theory, about these charms. Now, we all know they are useful. But how does one cast them? With what intent? And why are they so intriguing as far as the caster's personal magical signature is considered." She gave another silvery laugh, it sounded like wind chimes to Hermione's ears. Professor Donovan quirked an amused eyebrow at her class as if to say that nothing she mentioned was of any consequence before continuing. "Of course, the form of a Patronus is rather wonderful. I expect detailed answers to all these questions in an essay in my next class…. Unless you have better things to do…" At this, she winked at a black haired boy who sat staring open mouthed at the Professor. He blushed and gave her a cheeky grin. Hermione felt scandalised. What the hell.

During the rest of the class, Donovan, for Hermione had lost any shred of respect she may have had for the woman, went around the room lecturing in a flippant, inconsequential manner about the most potent light charm. Sometimes she would stop at desks and lean over in an innocent way and laugh. Hermione bristled in her chair at the Professor's lack of decorum and decency. Never had she seen such behaviour from a teacher. She was outraged enough to forget for a moment that Tom Riddle was still in the same class room as her and was watching her with interest as she gave disgusted looks to the Professor.

"Ah, Tom…. My dear…. If you would be so kind as to demonstrate for those who fall short…." She was standing behind Riddle's chair now, eyeing him interest. "After all, a charming man such as yourself has greater obligations than most…" She smiled coyly at him while Tom looked politely embarrassed by this praise. Hermione gagged in her chair_. Why was it that no one noticed Donovan's suggestive behaviour?_ She looked around and comprehension dawned on her. The boys were too busy staring at the woman to notice what she was doing… The girls, on the other hand, were too busy avoiding her to pay attention to her. Huh. She sighed as Riddle failed in his attempt and looked back at her parchment. Riddle could not have produced a Patronus in a million lifetimes. Donovan simply smiled more widely and placed a sympathetic hand on Riddle's arm.

"We all have our bad days…." She said and simply moved to the head of the classroom before continuing. "Well, since Tom failed, I doubt any of you could….. But nevertheless, we may try…. Ah, how about you Miss Lafayette?" She smiled disdainfully at her. She expected her to fail. Hermione smirked to herself. This was too easy. She would show the woman. She nodded and waved her wand in a well-rehearsed movement before softly whispering:

"_Expecto Patronum"_

A silvery otter whooshed out of the tip of her wand and ran about the room, snapping playfully at the students' feet. The Professor looked dumbstruck but managed to compose herself. There was an odd expression in her eye.

* * *

Severus was sitting at his desk in the empty classroom, shooting random flies with his wand. His last class for the day would begin in half an hour. He felt drained, more so than he had when he was juggling his job at Hogwarts alongside the spy duties. He had more than that on his hands now. What with researching the inexplicable time travel, keeping checks on Grindelwald's progress, following the teenage Dark Lord's every move and teaching fifteen classes a week, Severus felt utterly and completely exhausted. He could not seek Lily's sights for a few moments of comfort either. The Sand Glass was broken beyond repair and he would not be able to catch glimpses of her life. Not now. Perhaps never. He had made peace with her death after the war. But he had not forgotten her. He could not. The Sand Glass had been his place of solitude. He would use it to visit her, invisible of course, and simply gaze at her busy in whatever chores she had. She was lovely beyond comparison. He would never forget her. But now, the last tangible access he had to her was lost. All he had now were bitter memories. Just those and nothing else.

A quiet knock sounded on the door. He roused himself from his morose thoughts and growled a harsh _'Come in'_ before settling his face into an irritated scowl. His look did not change as Isadora Donovan entered but he was mildly surprised. He wondered why she had come to plague his loathsome existence. Keeping his face set into an annoyed look, he raised his eyebrows at her in inquiry. She simply grinned and her perfect teeth shone like pearls. He was truly irritated now.

"Oh, hello Severus…" She spoke in a smooth voice. "I simply came by to ask if you have a book that I require in transfiguration. I hope you don't mind…" She smiled radiantly and looked at him in expectation.

"Would the library not suffice?" He snapped at her. She stood unaffected with the same charming smile on her face.

"Of course it would… But the book, you see, is not available therein…." She moved close to his desk and leaned over. "And I was hoping you could help…"

He understood her meaning. Oh, quite well actually. He was an ex-death eater after all. Nothing was unknown to him. But this woman…. She unnerved him. She wanted something. But it was not the book. And contrary to what she seemed to suggest, it was not him either. What did she want? He looked into her eyes and gently prodded the outer consciousness. She seemed to be projecting her desire for him. What the hell? He could not risk a deeper foray into her psyche, not without her becoming suspicious. But something was definitely wrong with her. Nobody wanted him. Not for his own sake at least. He looked over her form as she leaned over his desk before coming to a decision.

"Of course…. How about you stop by my office at around 9 tonight?" He smiled at her but it didn't quite reach his eyes. She nodded and with another suggestive inclination of her head, she straightened herself and moved out of the classroom. Severus covered his face with his hands. _All I ever wished for was a simple life with Lily's love…_

The class filed in slowly. They had not forgotten yesterday's lesson and were quite wary of his moves. _Good_, he thought. He noticed that Hermione had settled into a corner seat and was keeping her head down. There were dark circles under her eyes and she looked tired. The boy, Tom Riddle that is, had seated himself in the second row, neither too far from her nor too close. A strategic location. He was scrutinising Hermione stealthily. Severus was slightly alarmed at this. It seemed that his suspicions had been correct after all. Something had gone wrong with the two of them and it seemed that she had caught Riddle's attention this time. He sighed internally. So much for not drawing attention to herself. He would give her a good talking to and keep an eye out for her. It was time for the class to begin now.

"Ah… I see that today most of you have managed to locate seats to dump your ungrateful selves in. An improvement, wouldn't you say…" He chuckled derisively and continued… "Today's lesson would be devoted to Soporificus transfiguration. I assume that your addled brains are capable of inferring from the name about what that entails…." He sneered at the students. They cowered in their seats as he moved towards them with his robes trailing in his wake. "But on the other hand, it would be safer to assume that you do not. Can anyone tell me what the aforementioned charm involves?"

Only one raised hand followed his pronouncement. Tom Riddle. He was surprised that Granger did not raise her hand. Something was definitely bothering her then. Severus nodded to Riddle.

"It is the act of conferring a sleeping charm onto an object, Sir." Riddle spoke, in his charmingly polite manner. "The incantation would cause the object to transfigure its form in accordance with the intent. The merest brush with that object thereafter would cause an individual to fall into a deep enchanted sleep." Severus simply raised his eyebrow at the boy's impeccable answer and turned away.

"A simple explanation which would have to suffice for now. I do not expect you to grasp anymore, anyway." He sneered. "Now, the incantation is _Sopero_. The wand movement is pentagonal relapse. Simple, yes? What are you waiting for then? Get to it!" He barked as a few everyday objects appeared on everyone's tables. Turning away, he stalked to his desk and sat in his chair, observing the class like a hawk. Wands were being waved foolishly without regard for the correctness of the pattern or pronunciation. He did not bother correcting them. He wasn't concerned. His eyes travelled to Granger… Hermione's desk. She had turned her hairbrush and pin into perfect Soporificus devices and was working on the third of the five items. He would wait for her to finish before handing out the detention. So he waited.

As soon as she was finished, he strode over to a few students sitting at the front and examined their work with disdain. He made a few biting comments here and there, vanished a few items after declaring them completely useless and handed out three detentions before reaching her desk. He stood at her desk, his back to the class as he stealthily cast the counter charm and deliberately wrecked her work. She drew back in surprise as she felt a sudden rush of magical energy pass by her. Severus drew to his full height and towered over her seated form for an intimidating effect. She looked at him in confusion.

"You have failed, I see. Of course, it is to be expected of a girl…." He mocked her scandalised expression. Someone nearby sniggered. "Detention, Miss Lafayette. This evening at eight-thirty. I would expect you to read before you come for class next week." Her incensed expression did nothing to assuage the irritation that he felt in her presence. He continued moving around until he had almost everyone cowering before him. Almost everyone except Riddle that is. The boy seemed unfazed by his presence and seemed to be watching him curiously. Severus felt his grey eyes on him for a long while. He was worried.

* * *

Hermione dragged her steps as she made her way to the transfiguration classroom later that evening. The nerve of that man. He had given her a detention after sabotaging her work himself. She knew that it was a surreptitious way of speaking to her outside class but it need not have been so humiliating. She had been on the edge all day, expecting retaliation from Riddle. But so far, nothing had happened. She had noticed him watching her during the classes they shared but his expression had been one of indifference. She knew he would come. Lord Voldemort never forgave or forgot. But she also knew he was cunning. He was biding his time and that kept her on edge. She had eaten her dinner as quickly as she could and moved to her tower. Now she silently trudged down towards the classroom all the while looking over her shoulder and around. Every movement in the shadows made her flinch. She was relieved as she sighted the classroom door.

The door was slightly ajar. She hesitated before knocking. There were voices coming from beyond the door. She heard a woman's silvery laughter. Something tightened in her chest as she forgot to knock and opened the door silently. Her first view was of a woman leaning over the desk as she kissed the dark haired man on his cheek. It was Isadora Donovan. Hermione silently entered and stood by the doorway, all thoughts of propriety forgotten. She heard the same laughter as the woman straightened, a book tightly clutched in her hands.

"Thank you so much Severus… I really appreciate this." Donovan said and turned. She stopped as she noticed Hermione standing by the doorway. She surveyed her disdainfully from head to foot. Hermione felt uncomfortable under her gaze. She was thin and her bones showed too much. There wasn't much flesh in her body and her face was gaunt with dark circles.

"I believe it is customary to knock before entering, Miss Lafayette" Snape's hard voice sounded from behind the woman. "Pardon me, Isadora. The pupils at this school are rather lacking in manners. She is here to serve a detention for something similar."

Donovan looked at him with a graceful smile and nodded before giving Hermione a cursory glance and walked out. As soon as her footsteps faded, the door beside Hermione closed and she stared down at her feet. She felt ridiculed and humiliated. Of course, it was mostly because she had seen her husband being kissed by another woman and she was helpless. She couldn't confront him about it. It was how their marriage was. A fake name. A burden. A tie that bound and gagged. She did not feel for him but it still hurt that he would be so faithless. They did not have a conventional marriage and hence each of them was entitled to their freedom. But she honoured the vows. She honoured the institution, no matter how much of a sham it was. No matter how she reasoned, it still hurt. She had not forgotten that night when he had brought some woman to their bed. It always hurt. The worst part of it all was that she could not say anything. She had no right to. Neither had he. She blinked away the tears that threatened to escape eyes. No, she would not cry. She steeled herself and swallowed her tears as he spoke.

"I have called you to talk. You know, of course, that the detention was a mere pretext for a chance to speak with you." She nodded mutely, her eyes scanning her feet as he continued. "You did not attend your classes yesterday. Might I inquire as to the reason why?"

At this, she looked up at him wondering what to say to him_. Should she tell him about her altercation with Riddle the day before? Would he really be able to do anything about it? No, she shook her head inwardly. I will not ask for help on something I can handle myself. I have to preserve my pride… If nothing else, I haven't anything else left anyway_…

"I was taken ill, Sir. Nothing more" She said. He fixed her with a piercing gaze.

"I see. But that does not explain why Riddle was staring at you the entire lesson? What have you done? Your safety is my burden, after all. Speak the truth, girl. I do not have time for these childish antics!" He snapped at her. _Nothing more than a burden then. The tie gagged him as well. Nothing but a burden. A burden he did not have to bear willingly. Not anymore_. She clenched her fists before drawing a deep breath and looked back at her feet.

"I assure you, Sir, I do not know." She spoke in a small voice, willing herself to be strong. Snape sighed and closed his eyes.

"I hope you will be careful, then." He spoke in an even voice. "It is important to stay unnoticed, for as long as you can. Now, since this is a detention, you will stay here for the hour and sort out these records for the infirmary. " She nodded silently. She needed to ask him the question. She bit her lip and gathered her courage before coughing to draw his attention to her as he had turned away from her.

"Sir, may I ask you a question?" Snape raised an eyebrow, his face unnervingly devoid of any expression before giving her a curt nod in permission.

"When I made my decision a few days ago, of choosing to stay…" She spoke slowly, "Did you give yourself a choice? Of leaving, that is…" He seemed surprised by her question and frowned for a while before answering in an expressionless tone of voice.

"No."

Hermione looked up at him, awaiting him to elaborate upon his response. But when he did not speak, she spoke again, choosing her words carefully.

"I do not wish to be a burden, then…" Her voice faltered as she spoke willing herself to hold on to the remaining shred of strength she had. "I will leave after this year. I… You do not need to bother yourself about my safety anymore...Or anything else…" With that, she turned to the stack of papers lying beside his desk and sat down to her assigned task. She felt his gaze on her for a minute as he stood by the door. Then, without a word he turned on his heel and left.

* * *

When Hermione closed the door behind her after an hour, the corridor was deserted and torch lights cast eerie shadows on the floor. There were no sounds that she could hear. She walked silently, her footsteps echoing. Her shoulders hung limp and her head was lowered. Her mind was still numb and her heart felt the ache that she could not reason in her mind. She had made the right choice, she knew. Her decision to apprise him of the same had been a bit hasty but she could not be blamed for it. The sight of that woman and hearing herself termed as burden by him had struck her pride. No, there was no reason to delay what she had once decided. Then why did tears stream down her face? The marriage did not mean anything. Neither did he. No, those tears were for another loss. One more loss. Loss seemed to permeate the entirety of her existence. _One more fucking superficial thing gone eh, Hermione,_ She thought as she wiped her cheek. But the tears wouldn't stop. He vision was blurred, her echoing footsteps were the only sounds that graced the dark corridor. In this state, she mistook one turn for another and ended up in another darker corridor. She was still unaware of her error as she walked with slow footsteps, the world around her a watery haze that inundated her tiny existence with despair and sorrow.

"Ah, if it isn't the lovely lady herself…" She heard a cold voice speak from behind her and turned. She froze as she turned her tearful haze towards the tall boy standing in the middle of the corridor. He leaned lazily against the wall and smirked at her, the malicious glint in his eyes the most prominent feature that she noticed. She stared at him, her mind still numb as her hands hung limply by her side. Her wand lay tucked inside her robes, forgotten for a while.

He scanned he form from from head to toe and gave her a disdainful glare. He stood staring at her for a while. unconcerned and at ease. Suddenly, he straightened himself and his wand landed in his hands as he flicked his wrist. She eyed the pale wand with apprehension and made to reach for her own as her senses came back to her. But she was too late. With a casual wave of his wand, Riddle summoned her wand to him. It left Hermione's robes with a jerk and landed smoothly in his hand. He tilted his head in mockery and curled his lips in a malevolent grin before pointing his wand straight at her chest. She stared wide-eyed at him, her expression one of a deer caught in the headlights.

"I have nothing to say to you. Yet." He spoke quietly as a jet of blue light shot out of his wand and hit her squarely in the middle. She whirled on the spot and collapsed to the ground.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of this and make no profit.**

**AN: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. I have got back to all my reviewers through PM. Here's another one. Oh, and I have a few questions: Do you like longer chapters or is this length. Also, I am looking for any beta readers, please let me know. I hope you like this chapter. Let me know what you think and your suggestions.**

**Please Review.**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

**"You wish to remember? Pity, I wish I could forget."**

'_It was Christmas Eve. Hermione stood by the tiny window in the living room at the Burrow. All members of the Weasley family had arrived for a sumptuous family dinner. She smiled at the twins' newest invention: a pair of talking mice. They were rather adorable, cute little things in tiny waistcoats and pants that snuck down your shirt and stole your money. They were also quite accomplished in acrobatic feats. Hermione wondered how Fred and George had managed to tweak the magical energy into imparting such skills into those mice. She shook her head as one of them bared its teeth and climbed to the top of Mr Weasley's head. Harry sat in the living room as well with his arm around Ginny. He looked at Hermione and grinned. She was glad that she had survived. After everything, they had all managed to survive and find comfort. Yes, she was grateful. She raised her eyebrow at Harry as he continued to grin sheepishly, trying hard to not appear so jovial. The Christmas decorations were in place with a few tiny ice fairies fluttering around their heads sprinkling them with fairy dust. Contrary to muggle beliefs, fairy dust gave you nothing except coughs and mild itch. _

_She looked up as the clock chimed eight. She frowned before turning away to look into the darkness outside. Ron should have been there a half hour ago. He had gone out with Seamus for some drinks. She had no idea why Ron chose to hang out with him after war. Perhaps it was due to the fact that they had developed some kind of camaraderie and friendship after having been held captive for nearly a month during the war. She would never know. She always found the boy mildly irksome. Oh well, one can't have everything._

_But Ron was late and she worried. The aftermath of war had been ugly. The scattered remaining members of Voldemort's group had fled but a few were still bent on vengeance. They attacked when they could. Where they could. She bit her lip in thought. The ministry had been keeping a keen vigil but one could not be sure. She wished that Ron would hurry and be home soon. She really would kill him if he didn't turn up sooner. Unconsciously, she lifted the dancing glass figurine that lay beside the window. It was a beautiful piece of art and like everything else in this house, it was magical. It turned on its feet and did wonderful miniature impressions of dancing ballerinas._

"_Hermione! Oh, you have got to see this! This idiot…" speaking thus, Fred hit George on his forehead and poked his ribs, "… believes that HE is more handsome than me and can thus get a date with Angelina for New Year's… Now…. Since you are a girl, kindly remind the swot of who his betters are." With that he blew Hermione one feathery kiss and batted his eyelids. Hermione giggled at this while the rest of the family looked upon them in an amused manner._

"_Very funny, Fred…." She laughed and continued, "But if I were her, it would be obvious who is more handsome…" The twins looked expectantly at her as she feigned superior knowledge and tried to control herself from going overboard with mirth._

_Just then, a loud knock issued from the main door. The house had been warded against direct apparition into the house. Everyone looked up as Molly got up from her cushion seat by the fire and went to answer the door. Hermione followed, thinking it must be Ron. The dimly lit entryway was decorated with hollies and tiny impressions of a chuckling Santa. Molly reached the door and opened it. She gasped and took a few steps backwards as Hermione got a view of who it was. A bloodied man stood in the gateway. He had several gashes alongside his upper collarbone and his clothes were tattered. He leaned heavily against the door and almost fell inside as Molly opened the second door. The glass figurine in Hermione's hand fell to the ground and shattered with a loud noise._

"_Seamus!"_

_The man staggered into the room and fell on his knees at Hermione's feet. He grabbed her ankle for support with his blood smeared hands. She stumbled and regained her balance as Molly shouted at the others in the living room to come thither. She kneeled in front of him and grabbed him by shoulders, his blood staining her perfect white dress. His one eye was swollen and the other… the other seemed to have been gouged out. It bled profusely. Seamus breathed slowly and painfully as she held him._

"_Ron… he… I'm sorry…" He rasped and fainted at her feet.'_

"NO!"

Hermione's eyes flew open as her body jerked awake. She coughed as the pain in her chest intensified and shot another stern spasm through her. She lay on the floor in mud. Now that her eyes were open, she could make out dim outlines of trees. She seemed to be in a clearing. It was still night time. The stars twinkled sadly at the world below. The hard ground below her did more to aggravate the pain she felt where she was hit by the blue curse. She tried to sit up but her body seemed to have no energy left and her limbs felt watery. The night smelled of soothing herbs and berries.

"How wonderful of you to join me…" She heard his voice speak. Of course, she remembered now. Bloody Tom Riddle. No, Voldemort. He entered her line of vision in the pale moonlight. His face was impassive as he bent down to kneel at her side. She tried to scuttle away, slither, crawl, anything…. But her traitorous body wouldn't cooperate. She could only clench her fist and grasp some mud. Wonderful.

"Now, then. Hermione…" He spoke in a low, soft tone which had the edge of steel to it. She glared at him and turned her head away to the other side as he bent over her prone form. His lip curled in a cruel smile at this reaction from her.

"Oh, what happened? Did I displease you in some way? Or… is the setting not to your liking?" He piped in mock concern. She stayed silent, resolutely looking away from him. She had to find her wand. She had to get to it before this psycho maniac killed her. She looked around. They were alone, screaming for help would yield no results. She looked back at Riddle's handsome face. In the pale light, his features were enhanced in beauty and grace. She could not help but wonder how such darkness resided inside him. A darkness that maimed and killed for pleasure.

"I believe our _discussion_ on the previous occasion remained… unresolved… So tell me, _Hermione_, why a new girl such as you saw it fit to attack the polite and charming head boy without a reason?'' He looked into her eyes, the grey in his eyes flashing crimson now and then as he waited for her reply. She saw him. Voldemort flashed through this handsome boy's eyes. He who had slaughtered millions for power. Him.

She said nothing, choosing to stay silent. Damn, if he were going to kill her she would not volunteer for information. She closed her eyes and turned her head away from him, again. He snarled at this and grabbed her throat painfully so that her eyes shot open in surprise. His face was mere inches from her and she could see the rage in his eyes. Darkness swirled around them as his vicious intent lashed at her and she let out another yelp of pain. His face twisted into a cruel smirk.

"Yes, it hurts…Doesn't it? Tell me_, why_? Was it simply from your illness that you felt threatened?" He threw her back on the ground and stood up. "Or was it me? But how could it be? I have never set my eyes upon you before… let alone cause you injury though I am perfectly _capable_ of it… Answer me and I _might_ let you live…" He purred as he stared down at her. Her eyes widened in surprise. Lord Voldemort, offering her mercy? She tightened her lips and gazed back defiantly at him.

"I think not." She choked out, trying to banish fear from her voice. He tilted his head towards her at her answer and stepped back from her crumpled from. At a distance of a few steps, he threw back his head and laughed loudly. She shivered despite the lack of energy and will. He laughed for a few seconds before going eerily quiet. The trees around them listened and bore silent testimony. It was too quiet.

"Yes… But what concerns me is how _you _know that? Surely, you must have realised by now that you shouldn't have made an enemy out of me…" He spoke in a dangerously quiet voice. "And I am… _intrigued_… as to why you would single me out, I did not hear of any other altercations on your part…with others. Why the disgust in your eyes?" Her eyes narrowed as she whimpered. The night was silent. He continued. "Why me, then? Which brings us to the question…. Who are you, _Hermione_? Tell me!" His voice grew hard as he commanded her to respond. She closed her eyes and shook her head. Tom surveyed her impassively before raising his pale wand.

"Very well. I have been kind so far. Perhaps you need more_… persuasion_." He spoke softly, the malicious glint in his voice was hard to miss.

"_Crucio!"_

Hermione's agonised screams filled the clearing from the moment she was hit by the curse. Every nerve in her body exploded as one in excruciating pain. A thousand knives sliced through her as Tom maintained the curse, intent upon breaking her to pieces. She writhed in pain, her chest stabbed repeatedly with crippling amount of dark magic in the past was on the brink of shattering. Blood reached her eyes and oozed from therein. After a while, Hermione felt all this in a vegetative state. Her mind receded to the horrifying memories of her darkened past. And they caused her to hurt more than any physical pain could. She wept and cried, sobbed violently but did not beg for him to stop. Her mind relived its darkest experiences as she thrashed violently on the dirty ground. Her flesh burned in mortal agony. The sense memory carried her to the shadowy corner of her soul.

'_She lay crumpled in a heap in the dark dungeon. Harry and Ron had managed to flee with Dobby. They had sent Dobby back but it had been too late. Bellatrix had already locked her. She waited. A few days had passed and she knew her friends would come to rescue her. They would never rest until she was safe. But the darkness and hunger were unbearable. She had no energy left in her body. They would come, of course. They would come. They did come. But they were late. _

_A burly man opened the trap door and descended the stairs. He looked at her in the dark room and licked his lips. She cringed as she saw him move towards her and tried to get up, supporting her elbows against the wall behind her. Anything to escape. He moved towards her with a vicious smile on his face. _

"_Don't come near me! Don't you dare!" She shouted at him as she managed to lift herself off the floor and moved sideways with shaky steps. The man simply grinned nastily and lunged forward, grabbing her in the middle before she could escape. _

"_NO! Leave me! Fuck you bastard!" She struggled against him with all her might and clawed at his back and his face. She managed to kick him in the stomach once before he threw her bodily against the wall. She slumped to the ground after the impact. The man wiped his face on the sleeve of his robe and spat at her._

"_Fuckin bitch!" He growled at her as she struggled to get up once more. She would not give up so easily. NO, over her dead body would her gain access to her virtue. But she was helpless. She had nothing to protect herself. Nothing at all. The man drew close to her lying body and kicked her as she tried to dig her nails into his legs. He drew his wand and pointed it at her._

"_Crucio!" He rumbled and laughed as she thrashed violently at his feet. _

"_You know, I have never made 'love' to someone after they had been put under the Cruciatus curse. I have heard it's good" He spoke wickedly as he lifted the curse off her and pulled her limp body wracked by spasms towards him and dragged it to a corner before fumbling with his belt. The pain had clouded her mind but this one sentence brought her back into conscious state. She looked at him with pleading, watery eyes, unable to do anything about it. Back then, she hadn't been so used to the torture curse and her body betrayed her. Her strength was broken. She lay there, in that dark room, as a part of her died. Her consciousness retreated into a dark place in her mind. _

_Harry and Ron arrived a few days later. They were too late. But she did not tell them.'_

After sometime, Tom lifted the curse and she stopped moving. Her body became immobile except for the erratic spasms. But her mind had become comfortably numb. She looked up at the sky, unseeing and indifferent. She lay there, motionless, unmoving. Her face was stained with soil and tears. After a few moments, Riddle walked towards her and kicked her. This elicited no response from her. She simply lay there.

He frowned and as he stared at her. She could feel his gaze on her but she was no longer afraid. She was… simply numb. No thoughts of self-preservation flitted around in her mind anymore. She was ready to die. Meanwhile, Riddle scrutinised her intently. He turned around and sat down cross legged in front of her. Tilting his head to the side, he ran a finger over her bloodied cheek before speaking.

"Are you ready to answer me now?" He waited patiently for her to answer. She spat out some dirt and blood onto his perfectly polished shoes as she coughed.

"If you are …going to kill me, do it now. You will have no answer o…other than this." She spoke raggedly and coughed a bit more. He looked at her curiously as he rested his chin in his palms. After a long while, he spoke:

"You do not care." He spoke softly. "You wish to die…" He twisted his lips into another cruel smile.

"You have _secrets_… Hermione…" He purred in a low tone of voice. "_Secrets_ that involve me… And you have no fear of death…" He continued. "I wonder why… I will not kill you. What a pity, though."

Hermione remained unmoving and still the entire time he spoke. She vaguely heard him say something about not killing her. She felt a little disappointed at this. If she had died, she would have been free. Perhaps. She heard him get up and move around. She stared at the stars high above and thought of the little lullaby her mother would sing for her when she was sleepless. Suddenly, a hand grabbed her arm and lifted her to her feet. She wobbled and would have collapsed if he hadn't held her firmly. She felt his grip on her waist as he moved his wand over her. She wondered what he was doing. Was he comforting her just so that the impact of torture would be greater? She sighed internally, she really did not care. He could feed her to the dogs for all she cared. She wouldn't mind. Not anymore.

She felt him draw away and was surprised when she did not fall to the ground. She looked at her hands and noticed that the bruises on them were gone. Absently, she touched her face and found it clean of any wounds or residual blood. Spasms shook her body at times but other than that she felt… fine. Tired, but fine. She frowned and looked at Riddle who stood a little way away from her. His face was expressionless as he gazed down at her. She wondered what had happened and why the monster had healed her after brutalising her. She stared at him at which he raised his eyebrows and lifted his wand towards her. She looked at the wand and closed her eyes for the final blow to come. Perhaps, it would be a simple curse.

It never came. She heard him whisper something in that cold monotone voice.

"_Religo!"_

She felt a freezing gust of wind followed by a warm breeze and her eyes opened as she felt malicious magical energy encircle her wrist. Still in shock, she looked at the faint white outline that faded into her skin as it settled itself into her. She opened her mouth and closed it. What had he done? What was the incantation? She had never read about it. She looked back at him as he continued to scan her lazily, his wand held pointed to the ground. After a few seconds, he walked towards her and passed by her as she stood frozen and contemplating. He stopped after a few steps and without looking back, spoke:

"You will remember to not mention this to anyone, of course." And with that, he strode off towards the distant castle with confident steps.

* * *

Tom walked back towards the castle with casual steps. Soft breeze caressed his aristocratic features. The pale moonlight lent emphasis to his regal bearing. Nobody who saw him now would believe that he had tortured an innocent girl to the brink of death a few minutes ago. Being head boy gave him privileges, one of which was the permission to patrol corridors long after curfew. His wand was carefully tucked in his robes, he would be able to draw it without delay in case of an attack. Not that there would be any attacks on him, people knew better.

But she hadn't. Tom was still perplexed as to why the girl drawn her wand upon him and why she was so adamant about keeping quiet. She simply refused to speak even after having been put under the Cruciatus curse. Nobody, absolutely nobody held their tongue after Tom put them under torture. Tom remembered the one time a Gryffindor had dared defy him and Tom had taught him a lesson, the buffoon had given in within a few seconds. This girl had held out under his curse for full five minutes before he withdrew it. She confused him. First was her unprovoked attack on him. Oh, he had been livid when she got away after having caused him harm. But he had also been perplexed. Her single curse had held power, greater than any that Tom had encountered with the exception of a few professors of course. How was it that she was so adept at combat? Tom's curiosity had taken a backseat as his clever mind started to plan vengeance. He had had her followed throughout the day, his lesser followers, weaklings from other houses, had been instrumental in the same. She had been wary, to say the least, according to the reports he had received during the day. Tom himself had kept an eye on her during the classes. He had learned that her name was Hermione and she was a new student. In fact, she had been enrolled only a few days ago. That explained why Tom hadn't heard of her before. Or seen her. It had been only by chance that he had found her in the corridor by the dungeon while he was patrolling, all alone and weepy. Of course, he had made use of this extraordinary stroke of luck and stunned her with a powerful curse. He had felt quite smug at the thought of torturing her little secrets out of her. But that had changed.

She did not speak and that drove Tom insane. Her pursed lips refuse to speak even when she had bled profusely. There had been a dead look in her eyes as the night had filled with her resounding screams. It was as if she were not even aware of the pain in her physical being. And she _knew_ he wouldn't spare her even if she gave in to him. The open disgust in her eyes was hard to miss. And she had wanted to die, she seemed resigned to it. Tom wracked his mind for any connection he might have had to the girl but there was none. She was unknown. Her power and strength unsettled him. And he could tell, by the wariness in her, that she knew him. This was probably what had led Tom to spare her life. Perhaps.

She would keep her silence, Tom knew. The curse he had her under would ensure her compliance. It was a fine piece of magic that he had developed himself, a useful tool that extracted compliance. It was still in a developmental stage and Tom had cast it on a mere whim, no doubt, using her as a guinea pig. Anyway, he wasn't much bothered about her anymore. She couldn't do anything much. He would find out about her soon enough and would probably dispose of her. Yes, Tom's thirst for revenge was quenched to an extent.

When he entered the Slytherin common rooms, he found his friends sitting by the fireside waiting for him. Malfoy sat in the armchair pretending to read a book while Lestrange and Avery played a game of exploding snap. Only one other chair was occupied in the common room and in it sat Jessica Langue. She looked up expectantly as he entered. She had the proverbial 'face that could move a thousand ships' if someone gave a fuck. Her raven black hair hung loose over her lithe figure and her blue almond shaped eyes made her look the very image of innocence and charm. Of course, she was anything but. Tom raised an eyebrow at her when she got up abruptly and approached him.

"Hello Tom… I was wondering if I could have a word." She smiled seductively as she spoke. Tom looked at her with an inscrutable expression on his face.

"I don't have time, Jessica. Perhaps some other day." He spoke briskly and brushed past her towards the door.

"It's about the book." Jessica spoke suddenly causing Tom to stop in his tracks. He turned slowly as he noticed her closely for the first time. "The one that I lent you. My da… I want it back."

Tom narrowed his eyes at her. He noticed that his friends were observing them closely. The Slytherin house was known for ambition and cunning. They always paid attention and observed silently, noting the flaws and observations while at the same time gauging the person's strength. Then they attacked at the most opportune moment. Tom, however, was too clever for mundane Slytherin tactics and actions. His attention was now fixed upon the witch in front of him as he moved towards her.

She seemed to be waiting for his response nervously. Seriously, did the girl have a death wish? She probably thought he wouldn't harm her in front of audience, one of whom was her cousin. Foolish girl.

"I am quite sure I know nothing of what you are talking about." He spoke smoothly, piercing her with his gaze. "Now, if you are done, I must be heading back." With that, he turned on his feet and made to leave the room but Jessica grabbed his arm before he could move away. Tom stopped instantly, his anger seeming to get hold of him. He was truly irked now. He turned once more as she closed the gap between them.

"You don't understand, I need the book now!" She hissed to him in an agitated tone. At this, Tom's visage took on an emotionless expression as he disentangled his arm from her grasp. He drew her to the corner away from prying eyes and let his enraged eyes bore into hers.

"Do not touch me again if you want to live." He spoke in a hard voice. "Now, I hope that I don't need to remind you again that I know nothing of the book. It would be in your interest to stay away from me." The girl stared at him with panicked eyes.

With one last look at her, he turned and resumed his way out. With calm and easy steps, he traversed his way to the Head Boy's rooms and whispered the password. Once inside, he picked the book that lay on his side table and locked it inside his battered trunk. He warded it with the strongest protection spell he knew and sat down on his neatly made bed.

Ah, yes, the book. He had no intention of giving it up. It would be of utmost use to him in what he had planned for the rest of the year.

* * *

Severus sat in the Leaky Cauldron drinking his dirty glass of pint. There were very few customers at this time of the night. He scratched the dirt off the glass's outer side and emptied the container in one gulp. He had been sitting there for quite a while now. True, he did have some business in the knock turn alley to which he would attend soon. He mused over what had passed today. He hadn't been able to gather anything from the Donovan woman. He had prodded her mind more than once when she had turned up in his classroom. He had been right, she was hiding something but Severus did not know what. A little more probing had seemingly caught her attention and she had kissed him goodbye. Merlin, she had kissed him! That had completely thrown Severus off balance and his concentration had slipped. He wouldn't let that happen again. But still, Severus had to know what secrets she held. Especially now when everything seemed so uncertain.

And the little chit, Granger, well technically Snape, had told him that she did not want to be around him or something. No, her words were that she would leave after the year, forever. Well, no surprises there. He hadn't expected anything less. Nobody really wanted to stay with him. It wasn't as if it was a real marriage anyway. Severus didn't know what he would have done with her anyway if she had decided to stay. He wouldn't have touched her again, that was for sure. Perhaps it was for the best. She could find someone and have a second chance at normalcy. Something he had never had the good fortune to have.

He wondered why she had decided to leave though. He couldn't quite wrap his mind around the fact that she had suddenly changed her decision. No, Granger didn't decide on mere whims. She reasoned and then followed through with it. Perhaps she had seen that vulgar woman kiss him. Yes, that could be the reason. Very well, if she wanted to delude herself into thinking that he was cheating on her, she was welcome to it. Good riddance, if you asked him. But he did feel responsible for her safety while she was at school. Especially when the teenage Dark Lord lurked around the corners. True, he did not owe anyone that but his sense of honour wouldn't let him shirk his duty so easily. He would simply have to keep an eye out, he guessed.

Emptying the last glass, he threw a few Knuts on the table and left to enter Diagon Alley. Turning to the shady street on the left, he took a shortcut to Knock turn alley. The street was as grubby as he remembered it from 1990s. It was dark and littered with unseemly refuse and trollops on every corner. It stank of dark magic at every corner. Very few pedestrians seemed to be about at this time. He turned a few corners before espying the shop he had been searching for. It was a tiny establishment without a name, A few patchy books were displayed in the single glass window that hadn't been cleaned for what seemed like centuries. He entered through the black wooden door that creaked on its hinges. The inside of the shop seemed even more stifling. Lit by a single oil lamp, its dusty shelves held an ominous look. But Severus was unfazed. He simply looked around with a blank expression before his eyes came to rest upon a small man seated behind the counter. His dirty grey beard and crooked teeth seemed to belong to the establishment he was a proprietor of.

"I need 'Elemental Danger: A treatise' by Roger Haversham. As quickly as possible." Severus spoke in an expressionless tone. The man nodded and jumped down from his high stool and went to the backside of the shop. Severus stood there, glancing around, a guarded look on his face as he waited. After a while, the man returned with a small leather bound book in his hands and placed it on the counter.

"Ten galleons." He said in a business like tone.

Severus placed the coins on the counter and gingerly tucked the book inside his robes before letting himself out. As he exited the shop, he looked around before continuing down the alley with swift steps. He kept a cautious look around. Suddenly, he had a feeling of being watched. He stopped for a moment as his gaze swept across the darkened street.

"Severus Snape?" A sound emerged from behind him. Without waiting, Severus drew out his wand and cast a powerful shield spell just in time as a strong slicing hex hit it. He could make out a faint outline of a large man in the shadow. The man moved quickly to the side and fired a jet of green light at Severus. Severus ducked quickly and moved to the other end of the alley before firing a stunner at the man. The man dodged the stunner and fired another jet of green light towards Severus. Severus jumped out of the way as the curse hit the wall behind him. Without waiting to continue the duel further, he quickly got up on his feet and apparated into Hogsmeade.

He moved with quick steps towards the castle. Someone had attacked him. But who? And more importantly, why? It was not as if he had enemies in this timeline. He hadn't even been born yet. The attempt had been to murder him outright. It was a feeble attempt at best. If Severus hadn't been in a hurry to get back, he would have stayed and defeated the man. But he could not arouse suspicion and hence he had made a quick exit. Things were getting difficult. He did not know the identity of his attacker whereas someone who wanted to assassinate him evidently knew his identity. He had been a spy for too long to not know what that entailed.

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	12. Chapter 12 End point

_Disclaimer: I own nothing of this. Everything except the plot belongs to Rowling._

**AN: Hello every one, I hope you all like this chapter. I want your opinions as always. Now, I am rather dismayed by the scarce number of reviews I am getting. So, I won't post until I get at least 5 reviews for this one ((Cheeky grin)) I mean it. ((Cross my arms)) This chapter is dedicated to Lysaia and Amar 2. Thanks for your wonderful reviews guys. Hermione's condition would worsen further before it gets better. But hold on to hope. That's the spirit my friends.**

**Enjoy**

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* * *

Chapter 12

**_You invade the soft sanctuary of my dreams, come to me in silent whispers and torment my bleeding heart. Why not allow me my despair when I am awake and a little retreat whilst I slumber? Oh, why must you be so cruel…?_**

* * *

Hermione stood dumbfounded in the forlorn clearing for a long time after Tom left. She stared silently into the empty night with a blank face. Absently, she reached up and touched her lips where they had bled a while ago. Soft skin greeted her numb touch. There were no physical wounds. She opened and closed her mouth for a few times before a strong wave of grief washed over her and she sagged to the hard ground. She grabbed a fistful of dirt in her hands and clenched her fists painfully as she closed her eyes. Silent tears ran down her face. Pain, pure and unadulterated, squeezed her heart as memories stabbed her once again. The visions of her capture, scenes of her being ravaged brutally, suffering under the Cruciatus curse, all assaulted her weary mind. Memories that she had tried so hard to repress and for so long. She sobbed painfully and let out hitched breaths now and then. For so long, she had tried to forget everything. War had its price. Even the victors paid dearly. She sat there for a long time, crying her heart out to the cold and dark night. It held no compassion for her and in return slashed at her thin frame with a few sharp gust of wind. She was all alone. A spasm shook her body as she doubled over in pain and clutched her stomach. She was alone.

_Alone. Empty. Cold._

A wave of nausea hit her and she emptied the meagre contents of her stomach on the ground. One question ran through her mind over and over again as she broke down. Why? Why had Riddle spared her? Never in a million years would she have expected him to let her leave once he had her effectively cornered. And she had lain there, in quiet acceptance of her fate. A tiny part of her had been disappointed that he hadn't killed her. One simple curse would have put her out of her misery. Simple and effective. She shook as more memories of ghastly events during the war washed over her. Riddle's attack had opened a door that she had so effectively buried in heart. Everything came back rushing to her mind and deafened her senses to anything outside of herself. She crossed her arms over her chest and lowered her head in an effort to control her tears but to no avail_. Oh, why did he not kill me? It would have been so easy for him and a kind deliverance for me._ But Voldemort was never kind, was he? He had been right, she did have secrets. She doubted he suspected her secrets to be as deadly and impeding of his progress as they were, but still he suspected her. If only he had killed her… If she survived the night, which she doubted, he would be after her. She knew. A few raindrops fell from the sky onto her face. It had become overcast in the little while that she had kneeled there. She looked up, wondering if God existed and if He would at least cease her agony. _No_, she shook her head, _there is no God. He died with Ron._

Another spasm of the Cruciatus curse hit her and her nerves groaned in exertion. She could no longer sit up and collapsed on her back. She lay there on the hard ground, covered in dirt and bile, breathing raggedly. Her mind was overwhelmed with strain and she closed her eyes slightly after having been overcome with dizziness. Raindrops fell aggressively in an incessant haze, splattering her with more mud and dirt as she lay there, drained of all energy and will. _Look at me, I am as filthy on the outside now as they believe me to be on the inside. Mudblood, after all. _It was her last thought before the grey world went dark.

* * *

Severus hurried up the castle steps. By some contrivance known only to the heavens above, it had suddenly begun to rain. He quickly travelled the way past the entrance hall to the Transfiguration corridor. His assigned rooms lay there. It was quite convenient actually, not having to trudge the entire way down to dungeons as was his wont when the dark lord was in power back home. He quickly tapped the banyan tree that adorned the wall hiding the doorway to his quarters and muttered the password. Silently, he crossed the threshold and took off his travel robes. After removing the book from them, he flung his robes onto his bed and held the book in his hands for a while. It was then that he became aware of a sharp pain in his right hand. _Had the idiotic man managed to hit him somewhere?_ Scowling, he raised his hand to light and his jaw clenched when he saw what it was. The wedding ring in his hand was no more simple gold. It was flaming red and it burnt his hand. It could only mean one thing. Hermione was in trouble. Mortal peril.

_Fuck this! What had the insolent chit done now?_ He mentally cursed his fates and hastily placed the book on his desk before reaching for his robes. As quick as possible, he exited the rooms and went towards the Gryffindor Tower with quick footsteps. Reaching the portrait that guarded the house of inane troublemakers, he muttered the password and let himself in. The common room fire crinkled merrily. A few students sat around the warm fire chatting animatedly. They openly gaped at his entrance. A few shuffled their feet nervously in his presence. His intimidating tactics had worked all too well. The entire school detested him but they were far more afraid of him than anyone else. He looked around and locating a girl from his seventh year class beckoned her to him. She flinched and with cautious steps walked over to him.

"Go check if Miss Lafayette is in her room!" He barked at her. She obeyed immediately and hurried to the dormitory that stood on the other side. Severus waited. He wondered if something had already happened and if she were dead. No he would have known. The girl had said that everything had been fine. He had had his suspicions but they had been quelled by the thought that she was smart enough to alert him if something really threatened her. Unless… unless she had lied. Lied for the same reason that she had chosen to leave. _Foolish Gryffindors!_ He cursed inwardly once again.

Meanwhile, the other girl had returned. She walked to him with slow steps. Hesitatingly, she reached him.

"She's not inside her dormitory, Sir." She spoke nervously. He simply pursed his thin lips and without acknowledging her answer and went outside. He hoped she was in the castle. Of course, he could only hope.

* * *

There was an addictive quality to despair. And as one gave in to hopelessness, it devoured them and in a strange manner it consoled them. Admitting defeat, weakness in other words, perhaps fed the sadistic instinct that lurked in every human heart. And as its hold grows on one, its gentle caresses to lure one further along into darkness. The subtle demarcations between right and wrong blur. The ultimate stage of this state of dejection results in a state non-being. Some call it numbness, where one disregards everything and is resigned to whatever fate befalls them. They observe themselves and the world around them with a detached perspective, they crawl into the safety shell that their mind builds in its deepest recesses and hide. Regardless of who they were before, all that remains of such people is a disaffected exterior mingled with an unfeeling and an unthinking interior.

Hermione groaned softly as her world shifted from a haze to reality. She opened her eyes slowly only to shut them again when confronted by the bright light. She shielded her eyes with her wet hands before opening her eyes again. It was daylight. How long had she lain there? Judging by the warmth, it must be around noon. A good twelve hours then, at the very least. She had lain there unconscious for twelve hours. And no one had come to look for her. No surprises there. She pushed her body to a seating position with her elbows. Thankfully, she had enough strength now to attempt to walk back. She was still drenched from the rain last night and her robes were smeared with dirt and… sick. Her palms still supported the weight of her upper body as she scanned her surroundings. The clearing appeared friendlier by day light. The birds were chirping in their respective nests. Soft breeze rustled the tree leaves. But Hermione noticed nothing of these. She only observed the loneliness around. Taking a deep breath, she reached for her wand inside her robes when realisation dawned upon her. _Riddle had taken her wand last night. She did not have it anymore._

She closed her eyes for a moment as a slight spasm shot through her. Oddly, she felt nothing. The loss of a wand would have been crippling to her and she would certainly have gone overboard with anxiety at one time. But it did not bother her now, even though she willed it to.

_What was one more loss, after all? _

_Another number. Another fucking statistic to add to all that had been lost to her_.

Riddle had it. She might try to get it back but she knew she would not succeed. She sighed as she struggled to her feet with great effort and staggered a bit before finally managing to stand. She stood for a few moments, wondering if her legs would give way under her. However, when they didn't, she ventured a few steps. They were shaky but she understood that she could hazard a walk long enough to reach the castle. Still stumbling and staggering, she took off towards the castle that lay a long way off. She did not think all the way. Her mind and heart were numb. She could not feel anymore.

When she reached the Gryffindor common room, it was empty. All the inmates were probably in classes. She crossed the room to reach her dormitory and locked the door shut behind her. She took a quick shower and cleaned her robes to get ready for the class. She couldn't afford to miss another day of classes. Perhaps they wouldn't have noticed her absence in the morning.

She checked her timetable with calm indifference and noted that it was transfiguration class next. Gathering the requisite books, she hurried out of the doorway and the tower and walked quickly towards the Transfiguration corridor.

All this while, she was numb. She looked at the floor as she walked not registering the presence of anyone or anything at all. Her face was devoid of any emotion, she felt… nothing. Not anymore. No tears. No gut wrenching pain in her heart. Nothing.

_I believe they call it the end point, don't they? The limit beyond which one cannot remain human anymore. After all, I am hardly one anymore._

She was early for the class. She entered the door and sat in one corner seat. Taking her notes out, she began to peruse them with a detached interest. Learning seemed such an inconsequential activity now-a-days. Sure, she studied diligently, it was a habit she could not easily forsake but in the face of everything that had happened so far studying seemed too… mundane. She shook her head as the familiar feeling of numbness enveloped her heart. Yes, that was where she belonged.

The class had filled in, the students had arrived and were seated. They were waiting for the Professor. Riddle entered last with a self-assured expression on his face. His eyes slid over to Hermione for a brief second before he gave her a challenging smirk and sat down at the end of the row. Hermione pressed her lips and concentrated on her work, not giving away anything. To be truthful, there was nothing to give away. The deadness inside her wouldn't let her feel.

The teacher entered the class with a customary billow of his robes. Her eyes briefly scanned him before returning to here parchment. He looked a little different somehow, more worn and… tired. She sat in the same position for a long time, listlessly taking down notes as Snape drawled upon the benefits and limitations of inter-state transfiguration. All lesson long, she had the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. Of course she was being watched. What was disconcerting was that she was being watched by two pairs of eyes and both of them were rather discreet in their activity. Thankfully, it wasn't a practical lesson or she would have been in a huge problem as she didn't have her wand. A wave of aftershock shot through her during the lesson but she managed to suppress any sound from herself and the only visible sign was a strain of her facial muscles. She spent the rest of the lesson taking down notes from her book, keeping her head down and trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. She did sneak a few looks at Snape and every time she looked she found him staring right at her. _Does he know? No, how could he, I told him nothing and it wasn't as if I was going to tell him anyway. My troubles are my own. Maybe he is simply angry at me for yesterday. Well, whatever, I don't have the energy to deal with all this. _With that, she sighed and groaned softly as another mild spasm ran through her left knee.

After a while, she heard Snape snap at the students asking them to get out. She hurriedly collected her things and was about to get out of the class with other students when she heard him speak.

"Miss Lafayette, please stay after class." He spoke in a tired voice. She turned around hesitantly and went back to her seat, waiting for the students to clear out. Now that she looked at him closely, he looked worn out. He scribbled a few remarks on the essays while he too waited for the students to leave. She did not miss Riddle casting her a suspicious look as he let himself out, his cronies following in his wake. As soon as the last student scampered out of the classroom, Severus looked up from his desk and massaged his temple before casually waving his wand and locking the door and putting up a silencing spell on the room. Hermione shuffled her feet nonchalantly as she waited for him to speak. He looked at her with an unreadable expression on his face before letting out an annoyed breath.

"What happened last night?"

Hermione caught his eye in surprise. _Was he talking about what she said to him yesterday or was he speaking about the forest incident? No, he couldn't possibly know about the forest incident_. She frowned and lowered them quickly as she fumbled with her robes.

"Nothing, Sir."

"Indeed. Then pray explain to me why my ring, yes Miss Granger, my wedding ring incinerated the flesh on my finger?" He spoke in a low, dangerous voice. Hermione blanched at his answer as her eyes went to his hand. The flesh around the ring was red. She hadn't remembered that those damn wedding rings would alert him to any mortal danger she was in. But then, he hadn't really helped her, had he? She had lain in that clearing all night.

"I don't know, Sir." She spoke in a quiet voice.

Severus clenched his jaw in irritation and stalked to where she stood.

"Let me assure you, I may not know what happened but I do know who the culprit is. Now, I would like the reason for such obvious laxity on your part. I did impress upon you the need to keep secrecy but it seems that you have made yourself as conspicuous as possible." He growled at her in frustration.

Hermione ground her teeth at the accusation. She felt indignant_. What the hell is wrong with this man? She did not enjoy pain and contrary to his opinion she did not seek trouble. She was tortured senseless under the Cruciatus curse only last night and he had the gall to bestow further humiliation on her by way of calling her an attention seeker._ She closed her eyes and let out a defeated sigh.

"What do you want from me, Sir?"

"The truth."

Hermione nodded and opened her mouth to speak about the events of the previous day but found out that she could not. Words wouldn't leave her mouth and she felt gagged. She cleared her throat once and opened her mouth but only empty air issued. She frowned at her inability to speak and looked up at Severus surveying her curiously. She touched her lips once but could not comprehend her inability to relay facts to him.

Severus merely stared at her in contemplation. After a while, he let out a breath and looked to her right before speaking.

"You cannot tell me, can you?'' Hermione shook her head.

"Very well. Then let us try an indirect approach, shall we? I know who did it, but why? Something happened the day before, if I am not incorrect." He spoke seriously, fingering his wand.

"I attacked him as he was escorting me to the Hospital Wing. I… I did not realise…"

"…That he had no reason to harm you, yet."" He finished her sentence for her. She nodded mutely keeping her eyes fixed on the floor. Silence prevailed between them for a while.

"What do you know about elemental magic, Miss Granger?" He suddenly asked her. She looked at him in confusion before searching for an answer in her memory.

"Nothing much… I read it somewhere that it is an obscure branch of magic that has died out… And that it used to be the most potent form…" She replied hesitatingly. He gave her a slight nod before settling into his chair behind the desk.

"If you can, try to gain some knowledge of the same. It will… be helpful, in due course." She glanced at him in puzzlement as he looked away. A particularly nasty wave of spasm went through her chest and she bent over with a soft 'oomph'. Severus raised his eyebrows at this as comprehension dawned upon him. He pressed his lips tightly and went over to her, wand held out. He placed his hand on her shoulder. She flinched in surprise. Murmuring an incantation, he waved his wand in an intricate pattern and allowed his magic to pervade her skin. She breathed out in relief as the pain lessened and she could straighten up. He was standing quite close to her. She could feel his soft breath on the top of her head and she closed her eyes at the comfort this afforded her. The gentle unthreatening proximity of another human being. Not that she wasn't intimidated by him. But there was no threat, no fear for her life at least. A while later he drew away after he had steadied her on her feet.

"The Cruciatus curse." He whispered silently to himself, knowing fully well that she could not acknowledge his deduction. "Very well, Miss Granger. If that is all, you may leave."

She turned quickly and left not willing to spend more time with him. _What was wrong with her? Why could she not speak about her travail? Hell, what had Riddle done to her? And Snape had deduced somehow that she had been put under the Cruciatus curse. Good for him, I hope he will leave me alone now at least. Now about elemental magic…._

* * *

Tom watched silently from his seat as the bushy haired Gryffindor sat at the table for lunch. He himself was seated regally and ate in silence with impeccably polite manners. He had a meeting with his friends tonight and he planned to make use of the opportunity. The girl seemed oddly calm despite yesterday. He had watched her in the Transfiguration class today, she had managed quite splendidly to control her fear. Nobody who have guessed that she had suffered under the torture curse only a day ago. This roused his curiosity a bit more as he wondered who she was and why she was here.

Another worry gnawing at the back of his mind was the new teacher. He was mean and disgusting, no doubt about it, but he seemed to have taken an interest in Tom. He would watch Tom in classes and his facial expressions never gave anything away. This unnerved Tom to a certain extent. The Professor also seemed a little more interested than usual in the Lafayette girl. He had been watching her intently during the class and he had even asked her to stay back. At first he had wondered if the Professor had somehow found out about what he did to her last night but that was ridiculous. The curse wouldn't let her disclose anything he didn't want her to say. When Tom had prodded the rooms he had been mildly surprised to find them warded. _Now, what could there be so personal that the Professor had to ward the room to speak to her. Yes it was curious, very curious indeed. And Tom would get to the bottom of this._

"Malfoy." Tom spoke quietly, drawing the attention of the bumbling fool to himself.

"Y…Yes, my… um Tom..." Malfoy corrected himself as Tom raised his eyebrows slightly.

"I need information. Your father is on the board of directors. I need the files for Miss Lafayette and Professor Snape." He spoke in a nonchalant voice, as if they were conversing about weather or something equally mundane. Malfoy nodded eagerly. Nobody else at the table heard a word of this exchange and Malfoy went back to his lamb. Tom resumed his contemplation and looked up to the teachers' table. He caught sight of Professor Snape as the man stared right into Tom's eyes. There was disgust in his eyes and…._ Anger?_ No rage was a better word for it. Did he know something then? No, he couldn't possibly.

Yes, Tom was very interested in learning about the two of them. Very interested indeed.

* * *

Hermione skipped the Divination class next after mumbling a sincere apology to Professor Duran for not feeling well to which the Professor simply agreed and let her go. At least, this Divination teacher wasn't… abnormal. She went to her room and deposited her study things and sat on her bed. Closing her eyes momentarily, she let out a breath and eased backwards.

_Why couldn't I speak? Why couldn't I tell Snape about my predicament? Not that I had wanted to, of course, but still the choice should be mine. Did Riddle do something? No, let me think over this again, he tortured me and hit me… But that wouldn't stop me from relaying the same. No, wait… He did something right before he went away. A curse…, perhaps, although I cannot remember_…

Absently, she brushed her wrist where the magic had encircled and sunk into her skin. She frowned and closed her eyes before resting her head against the wall. Suddenly, a soft knock sounded on the door. She straightened herself and asked the visitor to enter. It was the red haired girl from her Transfiguration class. She peeked into the room and gave Hermione a wide smile before entering.

"Hello… Um… I didn't see you in class today…" The girl spoke softly as she seated herself in the chair beside the bed. Hermione shrugged her shoulders before answering.

"I wasn't well. A headache." She answered. The girl looked at her curiously before nodding her head.

"Of course. I hope you feel better." She squeezed Hermione's hand gently in comfort. Hermione smiled weakly.

"I am Lucia, by the way. Lucia Weasley." She said.

So she was a Weasley, it was hard to miss them, what with those red hair and freckles. Hermione shook her head in amusement and grinned lightly.

"I hope we can be friends. I know I would like to." The girl had evidently considered Hermione's smile as a sign of acceptance. Hermione found it oddly comforting as she nodded slightly.

"It is nice that you have a dormitory all to yourself. More privacy, I guess…So… where are you from?" The girl reclined against the chair's support and asked.

"I… am from France." She replied guardedly.

"Oh how lovely! I have always wanted to go there" The girl exclaimed as her eyes lit up. "Then you must have attended Beaux baton Academy. It is quite expensive, isn't it? I wish Mum and Dad had… never mind…" She coughed and looked away. Apparently, Weasleys did not have a lot of money in this time period as well. Hermione wished it weren't so. Ron had felt embarrassed every time he couldn't buy something for lack of money. Oh why was everything so cruel?

Hermione placed a hand on the girl's hand in comfort. She looked up at her and smiled faintly before getting up.

"So… I guess I'll see you at dinner…" She mumbled lightly and went out of the door after giving Hermione a sweet smile. Lucia was a charming girl. Something akin to friendship seemed to have formed between Hermione and her. Friendship. It seemed such a distant dream to her now. Even when she had it, she could not believe it.

A soft spasm went through her chest and she felt dizzy. Feeling nauseated, she ran to the bathroom before throwing up. _I should rest, cannot go trudging all over the castle in this weakened state. Perhaps, I will be better tomorrow._

* * *

The next morning was uneventful, at least by Hermione's standards. The classes were nice enough though certainly not as advanced as those in her times. Riddle kept to himself and had not attempted to disturb her. He did watch her though, she was sure of it although she couldn't catch him at it. Every time she looked at him, he seemed blissfully unaware of what went around. Yet, she felt his blistering gaze upon her all the time. The morning classes had been theory ones so Hermione hadn't required a wand. She had to rectify the situation as soon as possible or else there would be problems. The class immediately after lunch was potions. Hermione borrowed Lucia's wand for the class as Lucia did not take potions. The girl had raised her eyes in surprise but had said nothing and promptly lent her wand. For this, Hermione was extremely grateful.

Professor Slughorn hadn't changed much since the last time she saw him. He looked younger, certainly, but his pompous attitude and favouritism did not alter in the slightest. Since Hermione was trying to be inconspicuous, she did not raise her hand in most of the classes and silently attended to her work. She always chose the corner seat away from prying eyes. Well, most prying eyes, Riddle's eyes were more than prying. Other students weren't too interested in her existence anyway so she did not have much trouble from them.

The Professor shuffled about the class, checking their notes on the previous class's Potion. Today, though, they were attempting the Draught of Essence. This was rather interesting, for Hermione had certainly not attempted it before. She would learn something from it after all. Her attention was drawn to the Professor as he began to speak.

"Now then, today we shall be attempting the Draught of Essence. Can anyone tell me what that is? Ah…. Yes…. Tom…" He nodded fondly at the only boy who had raised his hand.

"It is a concoction that reveals the elemental qualities in a human being and its single drop can lend strength and vigour to precisely those qualities. However, care must be accorded before drinking for if the drinker's qualities are less than noble it would result in aggravation of the same and can create instability in their minds. The major ingredients in the preparation of the same are: Ground roots, essence of night leaf and cardamom." Riddle answered in his self-assured manner.

"And can you tell me which is the most potent ingredient of the three? The one that cannot be substituted…"

"Night leaf, of course. It is connected to the elemental state of any human being. Of course, pregnant women would not be able to touch it for they carry two elemental states rather than simply one. It would leave a mark upon them if they attempted to touch it."

Slughorn nodded jovially and waved a hand towards the store room asking them to collect their ingredients and begin with their assigned task. Hermione snaked her way through the students and reached the store room. She collected Ground roots and cardamom in one hand and started looking for the third component. She had had little experience with night leaf. They weren't used for much in Potions. Espying the said object on a nearby shelf she let out a hand to reach it. To her horror, it sent an electric shock through her fingers on contact. She tried to touch it again but to no avail. The sudden shock increased in intensity this time and she bit back a yelp. She drew back with horrified steps and looked around to check if anyone saw her.

Tom's cruel grey eyes met her widened honey ones. Not wanting to stay, she replaced the two ingredients in her hands and went back to the class room empty handed. She went straight up to Slughorn and spoke.

"Sir, might I… be excused from class today? I am not feeling w…well, I am afraid." She mumbled shakily in a low tone. Slughorn looked at her, surprised, as if he had seen her for the first time.

"Yes, of course. Professor Snape mentioned that you had spent the last night in the Hospital Wing. I hope you feel better." He patted her shoulder distractedly before turning away. Hermione did not pay attention to his words and hurriedly collected her things and bolted out of the classroom. Once outside, she ran to the girls' bathroom and locked herself in one of the cubicles.

She stared at the clear water in the toilet and emptied the contents of her stomach into the pristine liquid. Getting up on shaking legs she removed herself from the cubicle and washed her face and hands. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror for a long time before reaching out to touch its surface. The gaunt, haggard look on her face was difficult to miss. Her eyes had shadows under them. The paleness of her face would have put Malfoy to shame. Her bushy hair was dirty and careworn.

_Pregnant._

A lone tear escaped her eye as she stared at her reflection.

_Pregnant._

_With a child. _

_A child._

_An innocent life._

_A life she would have to kill._

_NO! _

She screamed and hit the mirror with all her strength. A sharp hiss of pain erupted from her as the shards of broken glass lodged themselves into her hand. She sat down in defeat, cradling her injured arm in numb silence. Someone seemed to have left a tap open. The water streamed across the floor towards her and drenched her robes. She did not heal her hand. She did not look around. She simply stared at the washbasin pipe as coldness seeped into her and reached her foot. Numb. Cold. Dead.

_Numb._

"Hermione?" A soft voice called her name.

_Cold._

"Are you ok?" The same voice asked in concern.

_Dead._

"Oh my God! How … did this happen? God, Hermione!" The frightened voice of Lucia finally made itself heard. The girl sat on haunches near Hermione and shook her shoulder slightly. Hermione remained unmoving as she looked into the girl's pretty eyes.

"Oh dear. I… Come with me… We'll get this healed in no time…. D… Don't cry…" Lucia wiped the tears in Hermione's face and gently nudged her into getting up. She held onto her waist and took care to move carefully and slowly. Moving through the corridors was a difficult task. All the students threw the pair of them curious looks. A few flinched away as they saw blood on Hermione's hand. Lucia gently led the girl to the Hospital Wing. Hermione stared at the floor and said nothing all the while she was being fixed up by a fussy ancient version of Madam Pomfrey. Her name was Lamiera. She did not ask many questions. All this while, no intelligent thought ran through her mind. She couldn't take anymore. She was done.

Lucia accompanied Hermione on the way back and to her room. She entreated her to sleep for a while to which the distraught girl silently nodded. She helped her get into her nightgown. Lucia tucked her into her bed and arranged her books on the side. She was about to leave when Hermione spoke.

"Thank you, Lucia. I… I am sorry for the trouble." She whispered. Lucia shook her head and smiled gently.

"No… That's what friends are for." She glanced at Hermione's bandaged arm once before fixing her gaze on the girl's face. "I… If you ever want to talk, I'm always there."

With that she turned off the light and closed the door softly. Hermione closed her eyes and eased back into the pillow.

* * *

Hermione woke up to the awareness of intense pain in her injured hand. The throbbing had probably woken her up. She looked at the clock that sat on her bedside table. It was nearly midnight. She must have been asleep for ten hours at least.

_Pregnant. _

She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again. Gently, she shook off the blanket on her bed and got up. She felt weak and drained. This was it then.

She tiptoed across the common room and out of the Tower. She walked with hurried steps. Her naked feet made no sound on the stone cold floor. Her flimsy cotton night gown made her shiver as she walked, its thin fabric offering no shelter from the hungry cold that bit into her flesh. Finally, she reached her destination.

She opened the door an entered the Astronomy Tower. Darkness had spread all around. The grounds were illuminated by soft moonlight but mostly shadows loomed in that pleasant light. Behind the trees and beneath the windows darkness dug its vicious claws.

Hermione's footfalls were soft on the worn out stone. It was cold and it bit into her flesh as she moved forward. She shivered as the gentle wind caressed a few stray curls on her head. She was almost near the edge. She held onto the two pillars at the brink and looked at her feet.

_Just one step. One more step and it would all be over. No more pain. No despair. Nothing. _

She blinked.

_After all, life is valueless, isn't it? Think of how many worthy people you have seen die. And how many worthless ones have lived. Just one tiny step and all the misfortunes will be over. For you and the child._

She hesitated.

_The child. A product of hate. How will it survive, Hermione? Its father would definitely have nothing to do with it. And you? What can you give to it? You have nothing. You would be hard put to meet your own needs let alone the child's. Why not end it all both for your sake and the child's. It will have nothing by way of parents. It will grow up unloved by you. Your husband wouldn't even acknowledge its existence. _She closed her eyes as another memory flooded back into her brain.

'_It was her wedding night. She sat uncomfortably on the huge bed adorned with snakes and the like. She nervously fumbled with the sheets as she waited for the Professor, no her husband, to enter. Presently, the door creaked and he entered with two vials in his hands. Moving to her side, he offered her the two vials._

"_S...Sir?" She looked at the vials in confusion. Severus grimaced at her response._

"_It is a contrivance of my own. It supresses ovulation." He commented dryly, fixing her with a disdainful glare._

"_The ministry…" Hermione began._

"…_Will not find out. I have no desire to be stuck with a know-it-all for the rest of my life! The law will get rescinded. A foolish brat born out of this unholy union would only complicate the matters." He remarked scathingly. Hermione choked back a sob._

"_A… And if it doesn't work? If somehow… there is a child…" Hermione whispered in a low voice._

"_No, Miss Granger. It WILL work. You had better make sure of it. And if it doesn't…" He pushed the vial roughly into her hand. "You had better make yourself ready for the poor prospects of single motherhood."_

_Hermione took the vial from his hands and drank it silently. It burned her throat as it went down.'_

Her palms holding the pillar had become sweaty. She stared into the nothingness that stretched unending before her.

_Are you afraid that it is cowardly to die? No, it is cowardice to live in false hope. To dream. To love. End it now. Have mercy on yourself and your unborn flesh.._.

She caressed her flat stomach softly and closed her eyes. _Yes, it would be the right thing to do. There was no bravery or cowardice. There is nothing. Nothing at all._

"I wouldn't take another step if I were you." A quiet voice reached her before she could step off the edge. She was startled and swerved dangerously where she stood but caught hold of the pillar tightly before she slipped. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as she looked down into the endless abyss. Suddenly, a hand circled her waist and drew her back. She turned to find herself face to face with her worst fear. Tom Riddle.

He stood in front of her, his face a mask of indifference and his wand hand lazily pointing at her. Her eyes travelled from the wand to his face before she steeled herself for his next words.

"Now then, why would you do that? Motherhood is the _joy_ that every woman waits to experience." He spoke in a mockingly polite tone of voice. His handsome face reflected mock concern as his hard eyes surveyed her trembling form. Hermione's eyes widened in fear at his statement. _He knew. But it didn't matter now, did it? She wanted to die anyway. Nothing he would do could frighten her. He could not take from her what she no longer had. _

"What do you want, Riddle…?" She closed her eyes and spoke softly. He cocked an eyebrow at her and moved close to her. She shivered. He smirked.

"Why… Miss Lafayette, I believe I deserve _gratitude _for preventing you from committing a _grave error_…." He spoke and trailed his finger down her throat. She flinched and drew aside, pushing his hand aside with force.

"So, was this the secret you were hiding? Was this why you were so ready to die yesterday in the forest…?" When Hermione looked at him with a confused expression, he continued "Ah… I thought not. You see, Lafayette, I did not spare your life so you could take it yourself. No, your life belongs to _me_!" He hissed sharply and grabbed her wrist. "Until I have no further use for you and see it fit to dispose of you." Hermione whimpered in pain and pushed against his chest to move away but he held onto her with effortless ease. He was too strong for her to be able to fight off when alert. She made to kick but he moved to the side and held on to her.

"Stop moving!" He dug his wand into her throat and dragged her to a nearby classroom and shut the door behind her. He pushed her into an empty chair and placed a body bind curse on her.

"Now, now… You are a very interesting creature indeed. Not afraid to die… Not willing to relent in the face of pain…. Yet, a mere pregnancy pushes you over the edge…." He spoke softly, as if discussing a mathematical equation. "I can make some use of you. Yes… some very good use..." He raised his eyebrows and looked at her. "But first, I must know your secrets… mustn't I? Now, you will answer my questions or else…." He fingered his wand in a careless way as he looked at her with a dangerous glint in his eye. He tweaked the body bind curse so she could speak. She glared at him in fury.

"Who is the father of your… _indiscretion_…?" Tom asked her quietly. Hermione shook her head and gave him a heated glare.

"Ah… let's try again, shall we? Who _are _you?" Tom asked her, feigning patience in a saintly voice.

Hermione simply stared at the floor, not willing to acknowledge his question and desperately looking for a way out_. She wouldn't spill her secrets even if she did not want to live. No, she would hold her tongue to the very end._

"Hmm… well, since you are so _disinclined _to be informative today, maybe you will _reconsider_ in some time…?" Tom raised her chin and looked into her eyes. "Do you know what they do at this school to unmarried mothers?" He chuckled darkly, "They make them leave. This world, the wizarding world does not accept unwed mothers. You would be shunned by the society, forced to live as a muggle." He gazed dispassionately at her looks of incredulity. "But then again, you already knew that, didn't you? That is why you considered ending your life…"

"Be that as it may, you will not die until I decide. Not until I have run out of any possible uses for you. And right now, I have far too many." He drew close to her face and softly brushed his cold lips against hers. "Yes, far too many uses." He flourished his pale wand in an intricate Rhomboid Star Glaze pattern over her and her body tingled as cold magic seeped into it.

"You see, now you cannot die unless I want you to. A pretty charm this is, prevents the prisoners from committing the gravest sin against _God_… Suicide. Of course, your sin would be two fold… However could you think of taking a child's life, _Hermione_?" He shook his head in mock disgust. "I thought Gryffindors were _honourable_… I do this for your own _benefit _you know…" He smiled at her politely and left the room leaving her to stay in the chair till the curse wore off.

Go on then, review... I need at least 5 before i post the next chapter...


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

* * *

**"You disgust me!" **

**"I see"**

**When does dislike turn into hatred, you ask? I wonder. Very often. Very fast. Like now. Like today. I stand before you. You look at me with with pure loathing in your eyes. **

**Do I deserve better?**

**Do you?**

* * *

'"_Mummy….!"_

_A curly haired four year old squealed and fell into her lap. She giggled as she tried to roll on her back and look at her face. Hermione laughed and pressed the small form against her chest._

"_And what exactly are you doing, young lady?" Hermione questioned as she caressed the girl's soft raven curls. The sweet girl. She crawled out of her lap and sat cross legged in front of her. She donned a serious expression on her face and looked at her mother with huge brown eyes._

"_I won't go..." The tiny female in a pink polka dot frock pouted. Hermione quirked an eyebrow at her. _

"_Where exactly?"_

"_Away… way fwom you…." The little girl looked at Hermione with glistening eyes as her lower lip started to tremble. Hermione felt fear catch hold of her. She bent forward and scooped the tiny human into her arms. _

"_Oh, my darling girl… my sweet darling little baby…. Why would you go away from me?" She crooned softly, rocking the child back and forth in an effort to comfort her. The girl put her tiny chubby hands on Hermione's shoulders and drew back to look into her eyes._

"_But you did…" She mumbled solemnly. "You wan me to go way, Mumma?" Hermione's eyes filled with tears as she drew the girl back into a fierce hug._

"_Never…" She whispered as she stroked the girl's head. She wondered if children could tell that they were unwanted. '_

Hermione woke up in cold sweat. Day light had broken in through the blinds and was scattered about her room in golden slices. Her hand immediately went to her stomach and caressed it gently. She let out a soft breath and surveyed the ceiling as she kept a protective hand on her stomach. _No, I won't let you die._

It had been a week since the night she had come running to her dormitory after Riddle's ambush and cried bitterly in the silence of her dark room. In that one week she had experienced hell as her mind was constantly tormented by thoughts of this unplanned pregnancy. _Oh, she had seen hell during war. One could not remain untouched by the depravities to which human beings can sink in war._ _No, she was no longer innocent._ But this hell was different. It was a hell of dark anticipation that killed by way of uncertainty. She had brewed and discarded potions that would abort the foetus at least five times over in one week.

_Can the unborn really die though…? Would it be so wrong to take the easy way out for once?_

War takes away ethics. She had still not reconciled herself to the idea of carrying a child and raising it. She felt like she was in an isolated bubble surrounded by dangers on all sides. And one of these days, the bubble would burst and she would have no shelter. She wanted to crawl into a deep hole and lie there till death claimed her. A week was too less to grow accustomed to pregnancy. And the worst part of it all was that she had to keep it silent. She could not share the knowledge with anyone. She wondered how she had conceived, though. Snape's potions were never faulty. It had to be something else. Something they had overlooked. Something. Something.

The week had been uneventful and monotonous. She attended her classes and kept herself inconspicuous by answering as few questions as she could. Lucia had been quite resourceful when Hermione had mentioned her wand problem to her. It seemed that there was a huge market for generic wands which were amenable to use by almost anyone. The end results were not perfect, of course, but Hermione felt that she could make do with one of them till she figured a way to acquire a new one. Or her old one, for that matter_. Fat chance_, she thought wryly. So she had ordered one through owl post and was now in possession of an average looking wand that worked just fine. At least she wouldn't be unarmed the next time she were attacked.

Riddle had, surprisingly, kept to himself and had not bothered her in the least. She still cringed and was repulsed by his presence in the classes. He, however, maintained a calm façade all around and did not venture to speak to her or even observe her too much. His burning gazes had ceased altogether and Hermione found that she could relax a bit. She still kept her guard on and slept with at least ten wards around her rooms. She wondered about the potency of his strength at this age, she hadn't seen it revealed as yet.

_Was he a coward? Never venturing out unless his back was covered and he was assured of victory? He could be. Last time she remembered, he was the greatest coward that ever lived._

She wondered what he was planning for his obvious vehemence at informing her that he had use for her and his stopping her from killing herself could only mean that she figured in some sinister plot of his. She wished she knew what it was for she would be better equipped to counter it then. She knew it was a calm before another storm. _The fucking bastard!_

_When would it all end_, she clutched her head in despair as the sounds of quills scraping on parchments became overwhelming.

Snape had been another story altogether. He kept a keen eye on her during her classes but most of the time he ignored her. He looked more tired and exhausted than ever and Hermione wondered what he could be doing.

_Was he war weary_, she wondered. _It happens you know, when one has spent most of their life under siege and there seems to be no immediate end in sight._

She had no doubt that he was devising methods to alter the horrors that the presence of two unbridled Dark Lords in this time held. His cunning mind was unsurpassed in its strength and subtlety. She wondered how it would be to feel a person's mind. His would perhaps feel sharp like a razor. _What a silly thought_. She wished she knew what his plans exactly were. He had emphasised the need to stay at Hogwarts but she was still unsure of the reason.

_Was there really anything to be gained by staying? Why did he latch himself to the place that brought him unsurpassed amounts of grief? Perhaps he was a sadist. No surprises there._

All she had managed so far was to become a large target in Riddle's eyes and nothing more. She had also toyed with the idea of telling Snape about her pregnancy one morning when she was feeling particularly relaxed due to Lucia's sweet and incessant chatter but had balked horrified as the reality of the idea settled into her mind.

_He detested her. He hated her for not being someone else. _

_Or did he hate her because he was himself? She couldn't tell. What did it matter, anyway?_

_No, she couldn't tell him. _

The baby had nothing to do with him, he had made sure of that on their wedding night. She would be disappearing after the year and he wouldn't need to know about having fathered a child ever. It was not like he wanted one, anyway. Her conscience had pricked a little at this deception by omission but she had put her foot down.

_Was she running away from everything?_

_Yes, she was. War changed people. Flight did not seemed as much of a disgrace anymore. Why had she stayed, then? Why hadn't she come out and told him when he had asked? _

_Somewhere at the back of her mind she knew she hated him as much he hated her. She had stayed only so that she would be able to complete her education. Was hate too strong a word?_

_Would he hate her for bearing his child or would he hate her for not telling him, if he ever found out? She didn't know. He was a closed book. She could never pry open his affections with her nimble fingers. _

_It didn't matter, did it? Nothing ever did._

She would probably go to America after the year was through. Beginning a new life there wouldn't be as difficult as it would be here. She would need to work extra hard to provide for the baby's needs when it came. She had no money in hand as of now except the allowance Snape gave her and she resented this. She had decided to save most of it and had taken up a part time correspondence job for a famous writer after proving her impeccable penmanship through her letters. She had to answer his fan mail, write a few letters for him to editors and such menial work on weekends. It would fetch her five galleons a month. Of course, it was too less. The women in this time were severely underpaid and no one questioned it. She hoped she would have enough to sustain her for at least a few months after the baby arrived. It seemed strange but she had already begun to plan so far ahead for someone that was unwanted_. No, perhaps not so unwanted anymore_, she thought as she drew soothing circles on her flat stomach with her fingers.

She let out a deep breath and immediately went to shower herself. It was Saturday that day and she was glad of an opportunity to put her work in order. She had plans to go to the library and work on her assignments as well as research a bit on baby care and motherhood. _Seriously, life had a way of shooting off trajectories in such an unforeseen manner. Had someone asked her where she would be in the next two years, she would never have had her present life as an answer_. _Fate was a sore spot in her abdomen._ She had so much to do and so little time to figure it out in. Donning her shortest dress which was still below her knees and covered with floral patterns, the fashion in this time was terribly repressive of women, she went to the common room. In the last week she had also begun to spend a little more time there and had met a few of her deceased friends' ancestors, particularly Harry's. His grandfather, Joseph Potter, was the splitting image of Harry and had made himself quite prominent in Hermione's good graces really soon. She enjoyed his humorous talks and was quite glad of the company. She felt less… _broken_. Of course, nothing could truly take away the horrors of her past. But for some time, she could pretend that she was just some ordinary girl with them.

_It was like… dreaming. Yes, for the short while that she spent in the company of these innocent souls, she felt less tainted. The very air around them made her feel wholesome. But it was only a dream. She would withdraw into the living nightmare that was her life as soon as she left their side. She had no illusions about it. She was far too experienced to have any._

But that did not mean she actively sought out their company. On the contrary, Lucia and her friends dragged her with them against her will most of the time. She did not get her hopes up though. This was temporary and she would have to make sure not to be in contact with them after she left Hogwarts. No, she could not sustain friendship any more. _Friendship dies with hope and love. Another casualty of war._

* * *

"Hermione! You look… ahem… lovely!" Joseph's calm voice greeted her as she entered the common room. He was seated with Lucia and Paul. They were the Gryffindor triad. Now, she too was a part of them, well, kind of. Lucia sometimes referred to them as quartet. She had the sweetest smile. She smiled at him and seated herself beside Lucia.

Paul arched his eyebrow as Joseph looked at her in admiration. He was the surly one of the group. His quiet and intelligent remarks on the side lines of every chat they had greatly improved its quality. He was tall and well formed, muscular yet lean. Most of the girls made googly eyes at him when he passed but he seemed oblivious to all this and maintained indifference. He was simply not interested in them. Hermione secretly thought he might be gay but she could not voice her opinion. Homosexuality horrified people in this time period and she wasn't about to go to prison for that.

"You guys are up early… It's what…" She looked at the cheap brown coloured watch that sat on her wrist, "… nine. This must be some sort of record for you."

Joseph looked sheepish and muttered something about 'Early to bed early to rise makes a man healthy wealthy and wise' while Paul simply smirked at her.

"So… what's the plan for today? Hogsmeade, Leaky and Knocky?" Joseph rubbed his hands together in excitement. His eyes sparkled in a way that only good folks' eyes did_. Good people. When had she become the bad one? _

_Perhaps during the war. _

"So, it's the Hogsmeade weekend…?" Hermione frowned as she spoke.

"Yes! Seriously Hermione, you need to get out of that shell of yours. Hogsmeade weekends are the best thing about staying at Hogwarts. Surely, you didn't think your dear friends would let you miss it…"

"No… It's just that had some work…" Hermione mumbled under her breath knowing it would be a waste. Once Joseph got something into his head, he wouldn't let it rest. Paul raised his eyebrows at her on hearing her silent comment. She got a distinct impression that he knew more than he let on. What content his knowledge held, she couldn't say.

* * *

Afternoon found her walking with her hand on Joseph's arm as was considered proper for a young lady. Hermione thought it was ridiculous_. It was nothing more than another way of control that the male species exercised on the females. Fucking control and power. Wasn't that what the entire world revolved around? Those too dumb to notice the simple fact were usually the ones that talked of virtues and ethics._ Hermione knew better. She had had to learn the hard way.

They had visited Three Broomsticks and were now traipsing through the village's crowded areas. Behind them, Lucia and Paul walked silently. Joseph was his jovial self, smiling brightly at most things and most of all Hermione. She felt a little rattled by his attention. It wasn't unwelcome but it certainly wasn't… useful. Yes, that was the word. In her circumstances, it wouldn't do at all. She tried to be as detached as she could without sounding outright rude. But Joseph was oblivious to all that and he walked with a spring in his steps that conveyed to the world his perception of his good fortune. Hermione sighed inwardly and glanced at Lucia behind her who gave her an encouraging look. Paul simply shrugged_. When had teenage attentions become tedious to her mind_, she wondered. _Wasn't admiration what every female coveted? Was she no more a woman?_ She shook her head at the morose internal commentary. She had to drown it out.

"Um… Joseph? I need to go into that shop with Lucia…" She pointed to a lingerie shop and beckoned Lucia to follow her. Joseph nodded and looked oddly flushed as he sought to loosen his collar. Paul nudged him into going to a joke shop nearby.

When Hermione entered the shop, her first thought on the assortment of clothes there was: Medieval. Oh, with the extremely tight corsets and too large underwear and bras, Hermione was at a loss. She did not know what she could and should buy. Finally, she settled for a pair of each that was two sizes larger than her size right now, barring the corsets of course. She would need it. Lucia and she finally paid for their purchases and walked into the alley. The boys were not in sight, perhaps they were still engaged in the numerous humours that a joke shop afforded

"So… Listen, shall we just go to that book shop over there before the boys return. They wouldn't like to be dragged off to it, I'm sure…" Hermione trailed off, looking expectantly at Lucia. She simply smiled and nodded but mentioned wanting to see her uncle while she was here. He ran an apothecary on the other side and she hadn't seen him in over a year.

"Oh. Alright, I'll see you soon then." Hermione squeezed her hand and turned towards the bookshop.

* * *

Tom watched the thin witch from behind his own book as she scanned the shelves. He had been surreptitious in his observations of her for the past two weeks and she seemed more relaxed than before. He had devised a cunning plan wherein no helper of his watched her for more than an hour. In this manner, he tried to avoid suspicion. Although, the scathing looks she threw when Malfoy, Lestrange or Avery were around left him perplexed. It was as if she knew _exactly _what they were doing and on whose orders. This had led him to use other lesser known Slytherins of his set and he had had some success so far. She seemed to have settled into a comfortable routine and had made friends with more inane people of her house. Lucia was bearable enough but Joseph Potter, a blood traitor was absolutely abominable. This led him to wonder what her blood status was. Not that it mattered of course, but he would like to have known. The blood rivalry was an effective means of control over the wealthy purebloods and Tom was going to use every ammunition at his disposal in achieving his ambitious plans.

He had watched her for too long. Her quirks and habits were becoming familiar to him. She, like him, had a voracious appetite for books and spent most of her time in the library. She wasn't much concerned about her looks, hardly wore any makeup and kept her wild mane tied loosely in a bun. She kept to herself most of the times and did not talk much. Sometimes, Tom would catch her with a look of acute despair on her face and he had to wonder what caused it. She kept her emotions in check, though barely, and Tom's discerning eye could fathom the ever present melancholy in her mind. She was powerful, the pulsating aura of magic around her convinced him of the same but she hardly made use of her gift. And she was too thin for her age. It was as if some unknown worms had lodged themselves in her flesh and were eating her alive. He knew it was grief but the cause was unknown to him.

She seemed to be scanning the maternity section. This meant that she had made peace with her pregnancy. Yes, she seemed composed enough. Tom had noticed her caressing her flat stomach quite a number of times. He even saw her cradle it tenderly when she thought no one was looking in the library. Well, she had thought wrong, hadn't she? HE had been there, keeping an eye on her. The girl was more than she let on, he knew that. His last two encounters with her had been informative, to say the least. He knew her weakness now and could strike at the right moment. Not that he would, no, right now he would profit more by gaining knowledge about her. Tom wondered if this was some kind of obsession on his part. After all, logically speaking, what could the girl hold in the deep recesses of her mind that would be of any interest to him. But his intuition told him otherwise. He knew she was important and he HAD to know what she hid from him. If he couldn't do it by force, he certainly possessed other means of gaining what he desired. And once he acquired what he wanted, she would pay dearly for defying him.

"My Lord…?" Tom raised his eyebrow at Avery. He had always liked Avery more than most. The boy had a calm façade of detached interest in everything he did, something which most of his followers lacked, and his aloof manner unnerved his victims more often than not.

"Is it time….?" Avery questioned in his smooth voice. Tom shut his book and replaced it on the shelf.

"Yes… But do _remember _my instructions, I will not tolerate _mistakes_ this time…." Tom spoke in a low voice before going out of the door.

* * *

Hermione wandered the streets of Hogsmeade with her maternity books and clothes clutched to her side. She crossed the street and trod on a well-remembered path to an alleyway. The deserted lane had a tree at the end. The last time she had been here was with Ron. She walked with quick steps to the younger version tree that shadowed the dead end of the alley. She put her hand on the rough bark and ran it across, trailing the thin fingers over its texture in slowly rising desperation as if the proximity to the tree itself would bring something back. _Ron. _

_Loss._

_Memory. _

_Did the heart ever heal? _

_Would the aching pain in her chest ever cease? _

_Was she thankful for it? Did she treasure the pain for it made another thread that she could hold on to as Ron's memory?_

Memory… Her heart clenched in her chest as she remembered how he had held her as they danced under the moonlight. They had been on a visit to the Hogwarts and had decided to see the village one last time before they got married. But they had ended up spending the entire day and the night there. It had looked so beautiful under the twinkling stars and the long awaited freedom from bleak future. They had both played tag, a childish game, under the watchful night sky. The sounds of their laughter still echoed in her mind. It drove her to the brink of insanity and her mind seemed to unravel as she clung to the past. A poet's lines ran through her head, her cluttered messed up bushy head:

"_Memory by memory mind…"_

_No! Don't think about it. _

She closed her eyes to restrain her tears. She bit her lip to stop it from trembling.

She dug her fingers into the shopping bag. _Enough! _

"Well… Hello there…"

A cold voice issued from behind her. She turned around in surprise and drew her wand but before she could act, a silent disarming spell was cast and she stood all alone in the alleyway bereft of her wand. Her reflexes were slowing.

They were three of them; Avery, Lestrange and Malfoy. Riddle's Lackeys. She gritted her teeth and looked for an escape route but to her dismay found none. Avery moved forward towards her and she backed away against the wall until she hit it. She looked at the other two who were snickering at their comrade's actions. She clenched her jaw and looked straight into Avery's blue eyes. _Blue like the ocean. Blue like the sky. Blue like the dead._

"What do you want?" She bit out in a hard voice, her disgust all too apparent.

Avery simply looked at her and gave her a twisted smile. His calm unnerved her. She made to reach past him and push him away but he grabbed her hand and kissed it forcefully. Her eyes widened at the implication of what he wanted to do and she punched him in the face. He staggered backward at the impact, a little blood dripped from his mouth. She looked for an escape route but to no avail. She was still cornered. The two boys were blocking the only way out and they were now glaring furiously at her, cracking their knuckles.

She had made Avery bleed. The bastard who had assaulted Ginny and contributed to her death_. He had, hadn't he? Fred had told her. She hadn't gotten to see her corpse, though. _

_She had not wanted to. She would only be able to look at it with the same disinterest that her attackers had shown. War changed people._

_It inured their senses to death and decay._

The boy wiped his hand on his face and took a casual look at the blood on it. He looked at her defiant face and gave her a polite smile.

_No!_ She knew that smile. She knew what would come next. She had to get out. She ran to one side in a frantic effort to escape by surprising them but was immediately hit by a powerful curse as a result of which she was thrown against the wall like a worn out rag doll. She collapsed on the ground thereafter, the sheer impact of collision seemed to have damaged her back. A few chinks in the plaster fell along with her. With a painful moan, she placed a hand on her back and tried to get up on her knees only to be shoved back against the same wall by a broad figure.

"Now, see, it could have been easier…" The eerily calm voice of Avery reached her ears as the painful haze in her mind lessened. He pushed his chest against her and parted her legs with his knees. Her eyes flew open as her mind panicked and registered the situation. She whimpered in protest but he pushed his knee into her crotch. She wanted to shout. Call out for help. Scream. This was too close. Too close to the fucking reality_. Too close to… make her break._

"_No! Let me go!_"

She struggled against his grasp, tears beginning to form in her brown eyes. He simply stared at her and ran his hand up and down her side. _No! Please! Not this, not anymore_. Her shocked mind screamed at her benumbed body. _Do something. Say anything_. But, the horrifying memories held her rooted to the spot as Avery's dirty hands ran all over her clothes.

The cell. The man. The anguish. The humiliation.

_Not again, please, someone help me!_

She sobbed and writhed in his stronger grasp. He moved forward to kiss her lips but she turned her head. He growled and grabbed her chin so that she could look into his ruthless blue eyes. She gazed into them, terrified, as more tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Let her go!''

A commanding voice sounded in the alleyway. She turned her head to look but Avery squeezed her chin roughly and shoved it against the wall. Her head hit the wall and for a moment she was blinded by the pain. She sat on her knees and clutched her head, making an effort to gain control.

"Here, let me help…" A gentle voice reached her eardrums. A strong hand supported her waist and raised her to stand. She was thankful for this kind boy's help.

"Here, these are all, I hope…" He motioned to the shopping bags in his hands that had fallen down when Avery had accosted her. One look at the boy's face made Hermione's breath hitch in her throat. She clenched her jaw. It was him. Tom.

"You…"

"I believe gratitude is in order." He smiled politely at her still offering her the shopping bags. She snatched away her property and backed away from him.

"Gratitude?" She spat, still aware of the pain in her back, and massaged her neck with her other hand. "_You_ sent them! What the hell is wrong with you? Why can't you just leave me _alone_?''

Tom simply quirked an eyebrow at her and donned an innocently puzzled expression on his face.

"I'm afraid I do not understand. I believe I saved you from those three. And rest assured that their misconduct will be reported." He spoke in his smooth voice, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at her with a pitying expression on his face. Hermione gaped at his statement. His ability to lie and deceive appalled her. It was funny really and she would have laughed had her situation not been so precarious. _This_ was why the entire world had fallen for his lies and proclaimed him as the saviour for a long time. Until the mask had fallen and that too had been by choice. His choice.

"Are you kidding me…? They are _your_ followers, _Voldemort_!" She hissed at him in rage but immediately clapped a hand over her mouth as the words left it. The words hung loose in the air between them and she desperately clawed at them mentally to return to her. Tom's face betrayed no emotion or surprise at this admission on her part. He simply raised his eyebrows at her.

"I am afraid you are wrong. They may be my friends but I did not set them _on_ you as you appear to believe. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall leave." He spoke quietly and turned on his feet, leaving with his quick strides. Hermione simply clutched at her chest and wondered what this admission meant. Voldemort was very secretive during these years. And now, he knew that she knew his secret. _Oh God, what have I done?_

* * *

Severus sat in his office, absently turning his wand over. His seat was too comfortable. He shifted and straightened his back, scowling as he contemplated without break. _When will it end_, he wondered_. For you, never,_ a snide voice at the back of his head supplied. He sighed and pocketed his wand and reached for the cup of coffee that sat on his desk.

The past week had been quiet, for him as well as the others, it seemed. Granger's injuries hadn't been too long lasting and she seemed to be in relatively better health than before. He had been keeping a keener vigil on Riddle's actions than before but the boy was almost as slippery as he himself was. He had been furious after learning that Riddle had go to her again_. Furious? Why though? She meant nothing to him._

_Nothing._

_Nothing._

_Not a damn thing._ No, he had been furious because she was her charge, wasn't she? He wouldn't refer to her as his wife anymore, not in earnest, at least. He _had _fucked her though. _Repeatedly_. And in some corner of his mind he had enjoyed it. _What a lecherous old man you have become, Severus. What would she say if she knew?_

_Why was he doing this? He need not carry the weight of a world he abhorred on his shoulders. _Surely, he had paid his dues during the last war. His sacrifice had been enough. _Damn it, it had been more than enough. He had virtually sacrificed all he had to the just cause. No, he did not owe the world anything. _

_Then why are you here?_

_Why do you torment yourself with these half formed plans of restoring peace?_

_Are you truly that naïve? _

_There is no peace. _

_There is no shelter. _

_There is only war. A constant threat forever looming over every mortal head._

_And who knows it better than you._

_Who indeed_. He closed his eyes as the youthful face of his beloved presented itself on his mind's screen. _Did you mourn me, Lily…? As I have… grieved for you all these years? Did my hateful face ever taint the innocence of your memory? _

He rest his head against the support of his chair and opened his eyes.

_No, I suppose not. _

Presently, a soft knock brought him back and he called upon the intruder to enter. It was Isadora, the insufferable and devious woman who tried to beguile him at every step. He rose from his chair in acknowledgement. It was common courtesy, after all. She smiled brightly at the scowling man and sat down in the other seat without invitation. He bit back a scathing remark at her behaviour and lowered himself into his own seat.

"Severus… I cannot tell you how pleased and_ relieved_ I am to find you in the office today." She chimed in her irksome bell like voice. He gazed at her with an impassive expression on his face.

"You see, most of the Professors on the staff are rather… dull. You know what I mean…" She pressed his hand slightly, gave him a conspiratorial smile and continued. "Apart from you. You are quite interesting, not to mention the dark aura of authority that you carry about you… I would greatly benefit from friendship with a man such as you."

"Indeed."

"So I thought it would be nice if we could get to know each other. How about you have dinner with me today? My quarters? Around 7?"

Severus stared at the woman in disbelief_. What the hell was the matter with her?_ What was she trying to do by getting to know him, as she put it? Did she find him attractive? No, of course not. Then what… _Keep your enemies closer_. A thought ran through his head. _Was she an enemy? Perhaps. _He was becoming quite wary of this lascivious woman who showered her affections on every male in sight. What motivated her actions towards him? He had to find out. He could not depend on anyone in this dangerous game he was playing. He twisted his thin lips into a small smile as he looked at the beautiful women who sat near him.

"Of course, Isadora. It would be a _pleasure_." He spoke in his silky voice without betraying a single thought. She brightened even more at his answer and took her leave quickly_. Thank God for small mercies. _He groaned and hit his desk in frustration.

_He knew why he did this. He knew why he still fought. _

_He did it for her. _

_Even now. After all this time. _

_Only her. _

_If he succeeded, she would live. The future might be different but she would be alive. _

_That was all that mattered. _

_He would not let her die a second time. _

_He did it for her. _

_Even if she would never know._

_He did it for her. Lily._

* * *

"_Crucio!" _

Avery writhed on the ground and screamed under Tom's wand. His screams multiplied by the emptiness of the room shook the walls. Tom held his wand carelessly as he maintained the curse and willed dark malevolence to flow through it. The boy was bleeding profusely, blood streamed down his nose, eyes and mouth. He begged Tom to stop. He cried bitterly and clawed at the ground and the air. But his plea fell on deaf ears. If anything, it annoyed Tom even more. Finally, he lifted the curse and the boy lay on the ground in a sobbing heap. His other followers cowered before his wrath and scuttled away to shadows.

"You know why you were punished, _Avery,_ don't you…?" He whispered softly. The boy shook his head, unable to answer. His throat seemed to have dried and he seemed to be choking on his own blood. He coughed a few droplet of blood onto the ground, scratching the barren floor with his nails.

"Then let me _remind_ you. My instructions were clear. Frighten her. Ruffle her calm feathers. Discompose her. What part it did you _not understan_d?" Tom glanced at Malfoy and Lestrange and spoke in a hard voice. It was the voice of death. Cold. Bitter. Hard.

"I… I…" The boy rasped with his chafed throat. His eyes were half closed and blood shot as he held his neck.

"Oh, what happened to your calm demeanour_, Avery_…? Did you leave it behind when you tried to _fuck_ her in the middle of the street?" He waved his wand and casually hit the boy with a slicing hex. Right in the middle of his stomach. And noticed with pleasure as the boy let out another muffled moan.

"My orders _were clear_. That was _all_ you needed to do. Yet, you hit her and threw her against the wall. _Against_ my orders. Tut tut tut… What ever will I do with you…? And I thought you showed _promise_…" Tom spoke in a disappointed tone.

"I… I will do better… P..Please" The boy croaked as he clutched his chest and tried to crawl away to a corner.

"See that you do. Now, I believe that is all for today. I have assigned you your tasks. _Do not_ fail me or what I did to Avery would be _nothing _compared to what I do next." He narrowed his eyes at the rest of them and walked away.

* * *

He entered his room quite late, having spent most of the time in the library searching for the coveted book. He had yet to find it. The state of organisation in the library was abysmal. He could not find the one book he had been looking for the past two weeks. He kicked Malfoy's trunk in frustration and anger. _Fuck them!_ His condition was getting worse by the day. He _needed _to find the alternative solution. A sharp sting of pain ran through his chest and he caught hold of the chair's arm supporting himself with it and slumped into it.

_Fuck them! Fuck his homework and other plans for now!_ He needed to find a solution before time ran out. He couldn't concentrate on anything else like this. His breath steadied with the rest he took while seated in the chair and he could think again. One single utterance by that girl had surprised him. She knew his name. No one outside Slytherins knew of it and she did not socialise with them. _She knew his name_. She knew they were his followers. Not friends, her choice of words had been emphatic_, followers_ she had said.

_What exactly does she know? And how?_

It annoyed Tom that he was perplexed about this girl. The more he delved into her life, the more enigmatic she appeared. _Fucking secrets!_ Oh how he wished he could twist her pretty neck and laugh at her rotting corpse. But that would have to wait. He could not spoil his plan now. And Tom had enormous amount of self-control when he wished for it. He would get to the bottom of this and when he does he would make sure she died a very painful death for annoying Tom to the utmost. _Now for some rest_, he had work to do the next day.

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Good, bad or ugly, I like them all.**

**Lysaia, sweet-tang-honney SunDog MommyMayI Rachelle revistera migunit06 Penmora Zenith..**

**Hermione's pregnancy would be explained later in the story. The major question is do either of the men in her life feel anything for her? Are they even capable? I plan to build the rest of the story around these and of course the whole save the world scenario.**

**Someone mentioned that holding stories for reviews cheapens the quality. I apologise if you felt that way. My stories are absolutely free. I only ask for reviews because it is my first time writing a fan fiction. I need to understand any problems and shortcomings with my writing and the stories. It isn't too much to ask, is it? (Mock sigh)**

**Anyway, I hope you liked this one. Please review. constructive criticism greatly appreciated.**

**Ellesemera.**


	14. Chapter 14 Tread Carefully

**Chapter 14 Tread Carefully**

* * *

_''I like the sound of your name. It tastes delicious on my spiked tongue.''_

_''Look at me.''_

_''My demons will devour you.'' _

_''Flee if you can._

**You have sinned. You shall not escape. Crawl if you must. **

* * *

"Hermione…"

"Mm…"

"Hermione…!"

"What?"

"Help me… I can't interpret this bloody equation…!" Joseph's flustered face met her hazel eyes. Beads of perspiration lined his forehead and he constantly dropped his quill every fifteen seconds. It was a testament to how difficult the classes had become for the seventh years. Joseph was quite bright and he could get most of their course-work sorted in two trials. The arithmantic equation _was_ rather complex. Hermione had only just got the last portion correctly interpreted and was about to jot down her findings when Joseph shook her hand rather vigorously followed by a desperate plea for help. She placed her wand on the table and drew his parchment towards her.

"Let me see… Oh, you simply have to substitute Star gold theorem here for the rhomboid one, and move on progressively to the end. And make sure that you deduct adequate concessions to the two in each step. There you go." She scratched a few directions on his parchment and pushed it towards him. His didn't accept it right away, he was staring at her table. She followed his line of vision to her generic wand lying by the side.

"What's that?" He asked.

"My wand." She spoke quietly.

"I can see that. Why are you carrying a generic wand? Where's your real wand?" He frowned as he asked her. That got the attention of the other two people who were working on her desk. Lucia looked at her with interest. Sure, she had helped Hermione get the wand but she had never asked her why she needed a replacement for the time being. Paul simply tilted his head. It was his manner of indicating curiosity.

"I…um… Well…" She stuttered, banging her head against an imaginary wall to coax it into coming up with an adequate lie. "Well… I don't have it anymore…" She added lamely. _Wonderful. That was the best she could come up with. Bravo Hermione. _

Joseph gave her an odd look of disbelief. Lucia had a mysterious smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Paul simply raised his eyebrows as if to say: _You are foolish._ Hermione shrugged and turned to her parchment, all too aware of her friends' stares.

"Alright. We'll talk about this when we're alone." Joseph added and started making the corrections that Hermione had recommended. Hermione simply stared at her equations. Riddle had her wand. _Was she simply going to let him have it? Would it be prudent, knowing what he could do with it? Not that it would be much of a problem, the wand wasn't registered in this time period but she desperately needed it back. The generic wand's magic was beginning to fade and she could hardly get any spells to work the first time. No, she needed her wand back. But what would she do?_

She looked around her. Most of the students were struggling with their equations. Her eyes wandered over her classmates as she bit her lip in obvious insecurity. Her heart stopped for a second as her honey eyes met with cold grey ones. Riddle sat at the back of the class wearing a smugly satisfied expression on his face. He had finished with his equations, it seemed_. Of course he had. He was Lord fucking Voldemort. The bane of her existence._ He looked at her with his grey eyes and gave her a polite smile of acknowledgement. She turned her back to him and clenched her fists. _She needed her wand back. She would get what was rightfully hers. She had had enough._

* * *

Severus paced his study furiously. His face was set into an intense frown. His thin lips were pursed, his coal black eyes burning the very air that lay unwitting in his line of sight and he held on tightly to his wand. Presently, he stopped suddenly and closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath, and rotated his neck about its position. If he sought comfort from this gesture, it was a fruitless effort. No such relief was forthcoming. He opened his eyes once more and shot a blazing curse at the painting that hung on the wall. It hit its mark and the room filled with the bitter odour of burning wood and paint as the painting went up in flames. He stood indifferently and watched it reduce to ashes, leaving nothing but the blackness of soot and smoke behind. He turned and sat on his bed, seemingly more in control now that he had destroyed something. _Destruction. Desire. Death_. Those three entities had fuelled his actions a long time ago. They had fallen into disuse when he repented and tried to repair what he had unwittingly dismantled. But the desire seemed to have grown back. It had returned with an uncanny intensity. With every frustrated step, it asserted itself upon him. The dark temptress of the fort of dark magic wanted to draw him in once more.

_His battle this time was for and against power. He was no mere pawn. Nor was he helpless. The course was laid bare before him._

_But the dark temptress drew him in once more. She had destroyed his world once before. _

Would he let her do it again?

_It would be so easy to give in to her._

_Victory would be easily accomplished. One blood ritual. _

_His demons had returned. _

_He was fighting. _

This last incident had challenged his resistance to the utmost. He had failed to find the Marvolo ring in the ruin at Little Hangleton_. Did Riddle still have it? It was more than likely. _But the delay was frustrating his plans. It was no more than a tiny setback. Yet his rage had been uncontrollable. He had set fire to the remains of the shack as well as its surroundings. _What had possessed him to do so? He would get hold of the two Horcruxes soon enough if they were at Hogwarts. Why the senseless desire to inflict injury and cause harm? _

_NO! They could not be allowed to return. His very life would be in jeopardy. He would not be able to fight the dark lure a second time. He had seen too much. He had done too much to be able to overcome the hideous desire for darkness with a pure heart._

_He had nothing pure within him anymore. No. He would not let things come to the brink of disaster. _

He fixed his gaze upon the tiny clock that lay on the wondered what he would do once all this was behind him. No matter how he saw it, he was still _married_. Shackled was more of a word. He could never love anyone again. His would be a life of solitude and bitter reminiscences. Not that he liked company or people in general, far from it. But still, it would have been nice to have some sense of normalcy. He was still quite young and in prime health. Even if he could find someone worthy enough, he would not be able to give her what she would desire. He was still _tied_ to Hermione for life. She didn't want to be around him, which strengthened his resolve to stay out of her affairs. He would never have the normal life that all those muggle books glorified. _Wasn't marriage what all women wanted?_ He shook his head._ How crass of you, Severus. Like someone would want to stay with you_. Lily hadn't stayed for long. And she was the closest anyone had come to actually liking him for himself. Oh well, he would cross that bridge when he had to. It wasn't as if he wanted anyone. He abhorred most of the females. They were simply too dull for his interest. A few propositions had been sent his way when he went for an occasional stroll in the village or for a drink in the bar. But he never even looked at them. He was not a patient man. And crudeness coupled with dim-wit always provoked him into bouts of senseless fury.

Enough wallowing in self-pity. He had things to do. _Yes, he had to act quickly. He could not delay his task any longer._ The next Sunday would be Hogsmeade weekend. Most students would be out. He would acquire the distasteful objects then and no one would be wiser. After that, disposing of the boy would be simple enough. It would have to be subtle and swift. Not that anyone would know it was him, but still, the disappearance of a head boy might cause some furore. He still needed his place at Hogwarts for the year. He was still waiting for his contact from the ministry. He raised his lip in disgust at the thought of having to negotiate with them again. But it was a necessary evil.

Oh, and he needed Donovan under his duress. He was fairly sure that she held something of importance, though he could not surmise as to its nature. Perhaps, he should ask her for a drink after dinner.

_Very well, then. Let the game begin._ He shot a fly with an impeccable aim and watched it as it singed and fell to the ground.

_Keep the darkness at bay._

* * *

Hermione fumbled with her robe as she watched Lucia scribble a few more words on her parchment. She was working on her transfiguration essay and was obviously facing some problems judging by the strained lines on her forehead. She wondered if she should ask for help, especially now._ Was the wand really that important? Of course it was. How could she even assume otherwise?_ She _needed _it. It was her lifeline. And with a baby on the way, she needed her full magical strength. _No, hell would freeze over before she let anything happen to her unborn child._

She absently touched her stomach. Lucia was too engrossed in her work to notice. _What was happening to her? She wasn't that far along. But she would start showing soon._ If she were truly honest with herself, she did not know what she was doing. She had a plan, as always, but plans don't always work out in the real world. They hadn't worked for her so far.

A child would inevitably alter her life in uncountable ways. _Could she let go of her demons from past to ensure that she would be a good mother?_

_She didn't know. She had no answers anymore. _

_There were gaping holes so deeply entrenched in her tattered soul that no amount of joy could heal. _

But an innocent life growing within her had given her something. She couldn't name it yet. It was faceless. _But it was something. Something. Something. Anything._

She shook her head in reproach. _No. Don't. Please_.

She closed her eyes and opened them again, fixing Lucia with an expectant stare.

"Erm… Lucia?" She said tentatively.

"Yeah?" Lucia looked up from her parchment.

"I need your help." Hermione bit her lip. She would draw blood soon if she didn't stop. "You see, it's my …wand."

Lucia raised her eyebrow at her in question. She laid down her quill and gave Hermione her full attention.

"I know where it is. Erm… you see it was Riddle. We had a mild argument and I kind of shot a stunner at him. He disarmed me and snatched away my wand. He has had it ever since." She fumbled a bit more with her robes as the lies spilt out of her tongue with apparent ease. "I… I asked him to return it but he said … he wants me to learn how to be responsible." _Yes, that was a good enough lie_. Lucia liked Riddle. It wouldn't do to vilify him if she were seeking her help. She continued hurriedly as Lucia looked at her with incredulity. "Please… Will you help me get it back?"

"Why don't you go to a teacher?" Lucia replied quietly after a while.

"I… I can't. I don't want to be punished for an unprovoked attack, Lucia. I am new here." She looked down at her feet and closed her eyes. "People don't trust me.'' _After all this time, after everything… Lying still hurt. _

Lucia's eyes softened as she laid a hand on Hermione's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.

"Alright. I'll help you. What do you want me to do?" She spoke softly. "I am assuming you have a plan."

Hermione gave her a small nod and stared at the dying embers in the fireplace. _Yes, she had a plan. Was she stoking the fire? If so, then what would be the cost in case she got burnt?_

_Where could he keep the wand? Bloody hell, this room is stacked to roof with books and what not. I would never be able to find it here._ Hermione looked the Head's Dorm with a desperation swiftly approaching hysteria. Getting to this room hadn't been difficult. She had disillusioned herself and Lucia who would stand guard at the Slytherin entrance and send her a quick alert if Riddle approached. Getting inside had been easy enough, she had simply had to follow the next Slytherin who entered the quarters. Riddle's room had, unsurprisingly, quite a lot of wards to prevent entry and theft. It had taken her around fifteen minutes to strip them down. It was incredible that she could remove Lord Voldemort's protective charms. But then again, she _had_ lived through a war. She had had to erect such and other types of wards to save her life. Also, it seemed that Riddle hadn't really bothered to put up any really difficult ones. Perhaps he had thought that no one would be able to break these medium difficulty ones. She did agree with him on that count. Not many in this world bothered to learn of such enchantments. Or could it be a trap that she had gained access to his room. She wouldn't put it past him. But no, she wouldn't get another chance. With that she had shaken off any other suspicious thoughts and had simply entered the room.

The room itself was remarkable and richly adorned in what she could only deem Slytherin fashion. Serpentine motifs were embedded in every piece of furniture, the wall hangings and curtains. But that was not what surprised her, it was the sheer large number of books that the room held that had fascinated her in extreme. They could have filled an ordinary library. The room had been magically expanded to meet the requirements. But a few minutes after her awe had come despair. _How could she hope to find her wand in this mess?_ Sure, the room was impeccably organised but it was treacherously so. Any number of nooks, crannies and books may hold secret hiding places. One sweeping glance through the room hadn't availed her of her wand's sight.

It had been nearly an hour since she had started searching and she was starting to believe she would not be able to find it. She had looked everywhere. She had tarried in the room for longer than was wise. She did not want to get caught_. No, that would be fatal._ She clenched her fist and turned away in despair from the mess she had made. She made to leave but froze in her position as she heard the obvious squeak of an opening lock followed by the visible proof of a knob turning.

Riddle entered the room with an indifferent air about him and looked at her dispassionately. He was not surprised to see her there. He took off his robe and hung it in the dresser while she stood rooted to her spot, not daring to move, whether in fear or in surprise, she couldn't say. _Should she run? Would it help? What should she do? _Her breathing slowed once more as she reflected in horror upon what had transpired. She had walked into this willingly_. No, she had needed her wand. She would never willingly enter Riddle's room unless dire need warranted it. What should she do?_ She held on tightly to Lucia's wand and fixed her gaze on Riddle like a hawk. _No way in hell would she go down without a fight. Not this time._ But she still stood transfixed to the same spot, her wand limply pointed at the ground.

"You can sit down, you know… The chair is more comfortable as opposed to standing" He spoke as he took off his shoes and placed them in their respective position along with the dull grey socks. She frowned and looked at him warily, trying to decipher his game.

He put his bag in one corner and sat on his bed, easing into the soft pillows, and fixed her with an expectant gaze. Hermione stood dumbfounded_. What the hell? Why wasn't he firing curses at her?_ This calm façade was beginning to unsettle her. She frowned and raised her wand at him. He hadn't even bothered to take out his. He simply stared at her with an infuriatingly expectant expression on his face. _What did he want? Some kind of explanation as to why she had broken into his rooms? _She mentally scoffed at herself. _As if he didn't know._ But this calm was beginning to unnerve her_. She better get out before the monster unleashed himself. Wand or no, she would like to survive. At least now. _

With that thought in mind, she began to walk backward towards the door, Lucia's wand still held warily in her hand. At this movement, Riddle leapt off his bed quickly and closed the distance between them in a fraction of a second. Her eyes widened as he brought his hand and gripped her wrist firmly. She blanched and looked up at him. His grey eyes showed nothing but politeness and deference_. Fucking bastard._ That was actually true. He _was_ a bastard.

She tried to shove her wand in his chest and shoot a curse but suddenly she noticed that her wand was no longer there. He had pried it away from her in surprise. She was truly caught_. Again._

"I know why you're here…" He whispered softly as she struggled against his grip. "And for that one reason I am willing to forgive your trespass."

Hermione stopped momentarily at his words and shifted her gaze to his fathomless grey eyes. They were_… beautiful_. If only they hadn't belonged to the megalomaniac bastard in front of her she would have admired them. _And what was he talking about? Forgiveness? But wait… he was saying something else…_

"…You can have your wand back, here…." He drew her slender dark wand out of his back pocket and proffered it to her with a smile on his face. Hermione looked from her wand to his face in confusion and frowned. She had stopped struggling now and was genuinely puzzled. _Was he really going to give it to her? What was his game? And why the hell had she noticed his fucking cruel eyes?_

"I…" She began to speak but was cut short by Riddle's voice.

"But I want a payment in return for this _favour_…"

_There. That was it. Now this made sense in her universe. He wanted something from her again. She wouldn't give it to him, of course. Should she begin to prepare for the obvious round of Cruciatus that would follow her refusal?_ She steeled herself for blackmail and torture and let out a breath.

"What do you want, Riddle?" She sighed and stared at his bare feet on the greenish rug. "I doubt I have anything of value that _you_ might be interested in." Riddle simply smirked at her statement and gave her a lopsided boyish grin. Its effect was rather pleasant and inhuman. _What the hell was wrong with her?_

"Ah… that is where you are wrong, my dear… You do have something of immense value that I would like…" He spoke in a soft tone of voice. "_You_." Hermione stared at him in disbelief and opened her mouth for a fitting retort but was cut short once more.

"Now, before you argue…. I simply want you to be my date for the Halloween Ball. Nothing more. A dance, a few drinks and that's about it all. All this in return for your _precious_ wand… It isn't an unreasonable offer, Hermione…" He spoke gently and rubbed the skin on her hand.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and bit her lip. _Of all the… what the hell was his game? A date? A date? With him of all the people? NO, she shook her inwardly. She couldn't do it. This filthy piece of slime would grow up to be the most hated wizard of all time. He had made her life a miserable wreck then and now. She couldn't. She wouldn't._

"Do you truly believe me so _naïve_, Riddle? Do you _truly_ think that _I_, after everything you've tried to do and done to me, would give into your deception?" She spat and continued. "What's your excuse this time? That you have somehow fallen for me? Or worse, that you _like_ me? I don't date or romance Riddle, so get it into your fucking head that you will not seduce me into submitting information. I have suffered far worse than any wound you could possibly inflict upon me. Let go of me and leave me alone! Please..." She let bitterness seep into her voice as the last few syllables trembled on her lips before gushing out.

Riddle listened to her words with a blank expression on his face and immediately let go of her hand. She was astonished that he would defer to her wish. _Was it another ploy of his? Never mind. She could think about his guise and strategies later. First, she needed to get away from his presence. _She turned away and began to walk towards the door. He might get a free shot at her back but she knew he wouldn't attack now. He would already have done so. Perhaps he needed her intact for some nefarious plot of his.

"Wait."

She stopped in her tracks once more and turned to face him. To her amazement, he held out her and Lucia's wands in his right hand and was offering for her to take them.

"Take them. I believe I have… hurt you enough without the loss of these two as well." He spoke quietly with his eyes downcast. "I… I am sorry."

_Hermione's eyes widened at his admission as she realised that he was giving them away to her. For free. _She reached out a tentative hand towards them and caught hold of them just as Riddle relinquished his. Before he could change his mind about any of this, she quickly turned and left. _Now, to find Lucia and confront her about her failure to send in the distress signal. What the hell was wrong with this Voldemort? Had he really meant any of that? No, of course not. He couldn't._

_She needed her hate._

_He didn't do this out of goodness of his heart. He hated her. She hated him. He was evil incarnate and it would remain so until he died. Yes, the universe still made sense._

_Didn't it?_

* * *

A clink of glasses could be heard distinctly in the sitting room area. A tall, brooding man stood by the window sill and took small sips as he watched the inebriated female finish her sixth drink in one go. A small smile graced his sallow features as he placed his glass on the sill and walk towards the seat opposite hers and settled himself in it. The woman let out a soft giggle and batted her eyelashes at him_. Yes, she was ready._

"Now Isadora, you have been so accommodating and helpful to me, my dear… I wonder if you would mind my asking you a few questions... "He spoke in his silky tone of voice, affixing her with his cold gaze that deceived the warmth he sought to radiate in his reassuring smile.

"Oh Severus… You are too kind… Of course, go ahead…" She fanned her hand around in what she believed might be an endearing gesture_. Fool._

"Indeed."

"Look at me, Isadora…" He spoke in a commanding voice and looked directly into her beautiful eyes. _Legilimens,_ He silently cast the spell while holding onto his wand in the robe pocket. She was too far gone. She wouldn't remember this invasion into her mind. Even if she did, he would be there to remedy the situation. But all these concerns were long gone as he peeked into her mind. The images therein startled him. Treachery and deceit. Her mind was sullied with dirt and darkness. He had expected this. But the extent hadn't been apparent before now. This was too far gone.

He felt enraged and could sense the dark tendrils of vengeance slashing at his composure. Abruptly, he got up and returned with two potions in his hand. This time he sat beside the woman. She still had the glazed look of one whose mind had been recently attacked.

"Take it…!" He thrust a bottle roughly into her hand snatched away her wand. She still wore a dazed expression as if she didn't know where she was and what was happening around. Severus groaned and tipped the bottle into her loose mouth. She coughed and clutched at her throat in an effort to breath. Her eyes widened as she realised what was happening. She had been fed a sobering potion by force.

"Severus… what are you…."

She didn't get a chance to end her sentence as he quickly got up and placed the second bottle on the table in front of her. Drawing his wand, he aimed it straight at her forehead and surveyed her with a stony visage.

"Drink this. I will not repeat myself. You know what this is, I believe…"

Isadora looked at him in bafflement and fright. Her eyes travelled from Severus's hard face to the bottle containing transparent liquid. Her entire body trembled under his scrutiny and she looked at him with a pleading countenance.

"I… please…" Tears had begun to form around the corners of her eyelid and her hands shook in fear.

Her fright evoked a distant image in Severus's mind. Tears. _Was he moved by her tears? No, he couldn't be. The tears reminded him of some one. The same plea, albeit with a different pretext. They were innocent ones. These are vile and selfish ones. _He locked the memory in another corner of his jaded heart.

_That was where his demons hid. _

_That was where his darkness resided. With innocents he had tarnished and mutilated. _

He shook these bitter thoughts out of his head and pushed the wand a little deeper into her forehead.

"Drink..."

With shaking fingers she reached for the bottle and uncorked it. Still staring at his unfeeling face, she downed the contents in one gulp. The bottle fell from her hands and crashed to the floor. All the while, Severus hadn't taken his eyes off her. He was rather surprised that she hadn't made any effort to resist more. Never mind. With the truth potion he had just fed her, he would have his answers all too soon.

"What is your name?" He asked her.

"Isadora Michelle Donovan." She spoke hesitatingly, he voice quivering a little under the strain.

"Who do you work for?" His tone hardened at this question. She swallowed and closed her eyes.

"I… I don't know… I simply take orders from a man named Carl. He… He sent me here last term…I was to keep an eye on all activities around and at Hogwarts…" She spoke, her tongue compelled by the truth potion to utter no lies. Her lips trembled.

"And why is this Carl interested in me?"

"I don't know. I wasn't told."

"What were your orders after I came hither?" He had carefully worded his question so that she wouldn't be able omit that which he didn't know.

"I was to befriend you and keep close to you. I was to keep an eye on every activity of yours. And when the time came, I was to bait you into any traps that would be set up for your…execution." More tears crossed the barriers of her ugly eyes and she sobbed in the love-seat. Severus was about to speak when she continued.

"I was also ordered to keep an eye on one girl, who goes by the name of Hermione. She too is to be killed. I was told to keep the circumstances as conducive and easy as possible for the hired assassin when the time came to carry out the deed." With this her sobs grew louder and her breath hitched in her throat.

Severus's jaw tightened at her admission. The horrible loathsome creature who sat before him was the perfect specimen of everything that disgusted him. She was vile, cruel and weak. Above all, above everything she had conspired against him. And Her… Hermione. He never forgave or forgot. But that wasn't important. This new information about a hidden foe was more potent than anything. _Could it be the same person who had had him attacked in the Knockturn Alley?_ It was likely. He _needed_ to know who it was. Isadora would be the most logical way to him. _Yes, she would serve a purpose for now. What should he do afterwards, then? Would he forgive her? Never. Should he kill her?_ He surveyed the quivering mass of filth with disgust.

_Yes. Kill her. It would be so easy. To draw her blood for her crimes. _

She deserved it. She would gladly have served his head on a silver platter to god know whom.

_But… no_. He shook his head. Keep away. _You shall not have my soul. Not this time. _

_Ah… I disagree…_ A small voice spoke at the back of his mind. _I shall claim you, yet. I am woven into your soul… You belong to the darkness… Never forget._

Severus shook his head once more in desperation. _What the fuck_! Now, he was talking to himself. He should deal with the woman before anything else happened.

"Miss Dora…"He spoke softly. The woman raised her head to look at him with a tear stained face.

"I believe you are familiar to the Imperius curse…" He ran his finger over the dark wood of his wand and hit her with a quick Imperio. This way, he would have enough time to deal with the new development.

_His demons were returning. _

_They couldn't be allowed to. _

_He would dig a grave for himself as well as others if he let them come. This was getting too dangerous. _

_Too fucking dangerous._

* * *

_AN: I am so sorry for the delay... My workload simply refused to ease..._

_Thanks to every one who reviewed Kate, Penmora Zenith, Amar 2, SunDog, Lysaia, lalyta8, revistera..._

_Lysaia: I agree with you. Such people should suffer every punishment available to the mankind Hermione will get better. It is only fair to her. _

_Amar 2: I believe a child might change things but do you truly believe that with Snape's past, he can have an immediate change of heart? I find that rather difficult to imagine. Also, he doesn't really like children. :P_

_Penmora Zenith: You are too kind. And certainly correct in most of your comments. I am truly indebted to you for the appreciation you have shown. I hope I will be able to write better. :) _

_Mellisa: I am so sorry for the lateness of this update. I hope to do better next time. :) Thanks for reviewing._

_As always, please read and review :)_


	15. Chapter 15

**This chapter is dedicated to Atlantean Diva. Due to her enlightened reviews, I was overcome by the desire to write another chapter as quickly as I could. **

**Ellesemera.**

**Chapter 15**

* * *

**Like a song that I used to sing, when young and alone, you lent me comfort in troubled times. And now, you have clipped my wings and you're gone.**

**I am fascinated by this charm you hold, how easy it seems, come back darling, let me show you my version of hell. I will make it worth your while.**

* * *

Tom tapped his foot on the floor of the chamber as he waited for the potion to simmer down. _Another minute or so would do the trick. It should, of course._ Soon he would be free of the perpetual bouts of pain that had plagued him for days. He surveyed the scene before him with interest. The secret Slytherin chamber reeked of dead mice and other animals that his pet Basilisk had seen fit to eat. Their discarded bones lay scattered all around. On the floor before him lay the body of a mousy haired boy. _What was his name? Jack something… Hufflepuff._ He had chosen him simply because his parents were dead. The school administration did not know of it yet. The ministry had kept the rapid approach of Grindelwald on the British Isles hushed and secret. But he knew that the boy's parents had been killed as their village had been attacked. No one would notice the second year's disappearance. The school administration wouldn't wish for the ministry to find out that trouble was brewing in the castle as well. The ministry would insist on a takeover. In the present climate of conflict, nobody trusted anyone and the ministry was keen on acquiring everyone's trust_. No, the disappearance of one measly Hufflepuff would be of no consequence to anyone, least of all Dippet._ And since there would be no family to raise alarm, the Headmaster would suppress it. Just like he had waved away Josephine's death in the light of Dumbledore's demise. The girl had sought trouble by going into the Forbidden Forest, he had said. All conscience seemed to have left him after Dumbledore's untimely demise. He only thought of survival. Tom couldn't really blame him.

He raised his pale wand and sliced the boy's arm. A little blood oozed out which Tom carefully collected in a transparent vial. He then moved to the cauldron lying near a marble snake statue. He tipped the contents of the vial into the nearly ready potion and watched in fascination as the potion bubbled and changed colour. He went to one side and sat near one of the gullies that lined the chamber. Watching the soft fumes of the cauldron rise up, he pondered upon the grave error he had committed. This one lack of foresight had cost him dearly. He was doing everything in his power to overturn it. He followed the dwindling grey fumes in their incessant rise and contemplated upon what he had learned so far.

_The dark cover of night time was really the best part of the day. He could read to his heart's content in the restricted section of the library without interruption. Even as a Head Boy, he wasn't allowed the privilege of being outside bed past twelve. Yet, he always managed to stay in this part of the castle for longer than necessary. Sometimes he would return when the dawn followed the soothing dusk. He really did hate the first rays of sunlight as they slid over the overcrowded trees to illuminate the castle. It was so much easier to hide in shadows and complete his tasks. Perhaps, he could contrive some enchantment that would guarantee an eternal night. He smirked to himself at that thought. It was a delicious idea. _

"_Now… let's see… Elemental connection to Horcruxes….mmm…." He mumbled to himself as he skimmed over the contents of a huge tome to look for the information he sought desperately. How the hell had he missed this while researching Horcruxes? Fuck! This slight mistake had nearly cost him his life. He was seated in a cross-legged position on the floor, his eyes intently scouring the pages in search for knowledge. He needed the information. Lately, his mind had been extremely preoccupied with what he could only call as bouts of unbearable pain striking his body. They could render him potentially invalid if he did not cater to them. And only a few days ago, right before he had seen the girl about to commit suicide had he found that his present ailment was related to the two Horcruxes that lay safely hid in his secret chamber. Jessica… was that her name? Whatever, her book had helped him arrive at that conclusion. Without it, he would never have made the connection. The book described elemental connection in such intricate detail that even Tom was astonished. No wonder they had tried to obliterate that particular branch of magic. In wrong hands, such magic could prove devastating. Too bad that he had it now. He would not stop at anything. Not now that he knew what immeasurable power lay in his grasp. _

_Tom stopped for a moment as he found what he was seeking. He ran his forefinger over the word and quickly skipped to the page mentioned. With growing awe and horror, he began to read:_

"_Elemental magic, as opposed to the normal one, is an obscure branch that is no longer pursued. However, for the seeker of the dark secrets of the magic that is imbibed in Horcruxes, it is imperative that they know about the same. A wizard's body is made of five elements: fire, earth, water, air and space. The sixth element comprises of one's soul. These six elements lend six types of magical energies to the wizard. Their composition differs from person to person. For those who venture upon the task of creating a Horcrux, it is necessary to understand that no more than five Horcruxes should be created. The creation of each Horcrux slices away one element from the creator each time. The sixth Horcrux would sever one's soul. It is inadvisable to reach this stage. A severed soul leaks its power just as the severed hand leaks blood. Ultimately, it would fade and that which is eternal would be destroyed. With every severing, the magical potency would decrease. One may acquire further skills and power, but the end result would be instability and chaos. Also, contrary to popular belief (wherever such subjects are known), a Horcrux cannot keep the wizard alive indefinitely. They, too, are prone to destruction. Each Horcrux provides an enhanced lifespan of a hundred years or so. Upon its destruction, the elemental part is destroyed. But here we mention the secret known only to a handful of wizards throughout history. Creation of a Horcrux, by the supreme act of evil, renders the creator prone to many disguised evil afflictions. Pain is inevitably a consequence, although it is never fatal. It may cause discomfort and blackouts. It would continue to incapacitate the wizard at regular and irregular intervals unless the elements are restored to him. But that must follow the destruction of that horcrux which isolates his element. The belief that a Horcrux keeps a person immortal is flawed. The obvious argument that we can make in defence of our exposition is that no wizard currently exists who has lived longer than a thousand years. And they would not. A Horcrux simply extends life by pasting the severed layers lengthwise. _

_However, for the creator who has realised the folly of his actions, it may be prudent to destroy the said objects and restore the elements contained therein. A complex potion, by the simple name of Ela, its creator, restores the element which a wizard lacks. However, these elements are not present in isolated form and their acquisition requires the act of murder as well. The life force, after a person's demise, stays for a while before mingling with the infinite universe. Within one hour of death, the user must isolate the element using night leaf and collect blood from the deceased. The full recipe for the potion is mentioned on page 472._

_For the curious and the ambitious, the foray into immortality is not a futile endeavour. There is another way to immortality, little mentioned, universally abhorred. But as we are not authors with scruples, we shall point the reader in the right direction. Unadulterated elemental connection is the key. If you are wise, you would know where to look._

Tom let out a deep breath. Had he known about these repercussions, he would have refrained. But no matter. By his calculations, two of his elements had been severed so far. Fire and Earth. He had chosen the Hufflepuff for the earth element. In a few minutes, the potion would be ready and he would have it back. After that, only the Fire element would remain. And he knew that any Gryffindor would do for the same. They were all so feisty. He chuckled darkly to himself. He had taken the book with himself. It was the only one in the library. No one would miss it.

As the book had advised, he had destroyed his Horcruxes. That had been easy enough. Basilisk venom was available to him in plenty. He had also researched on the alternative Elemental connection the book had mentioned. It would infuse him with power so great that no one would be able to withstand his might. But before he took another step, he would make sure he knew everything about elemental magic. He had found most of the works, mostly old ones, and he kept them hidden in the Chamber of Secrets. But one book was missing. He would find it. Of course, it would take work. Lots of work. But he had to do it quickly. A war was brewing and he had no desire to be caught in the midst when it came knocking at the castle's door. Not yet.

His potion was ready, judging by the faint odour emanating from it. He conjured a silver goblet with detailed carvings. The potion might taste horrible but it could be served in a worthy container.

* * *

Hermione let out a sigh of frustration and turned her head away from the bookshelf in front of her. She couldn't find a _single_ book on Elements in the library. She had been searching for a while, every day, but she simply _couldn't_ seem to find them. It was unbelievable that the library that held information on Horcruxes, the darkest magic, would not hold this information_. Perhaps it was so obscure that no one bothered to write about it_, she thought wistfully. She shook her head and went back to sit with Lucia and Joseph. The day before when she had confronted Lucia, she had been surprised to learn that Riddle had been very kind when he had found her standing outside, spying. He had told her that he would return Hermione's wand and had meant to do it all along. Then he had politely sent her on her way. That had been enough for Lucia. She _did_ like the conniving bastard, after all. Hermione had also restrained her from narrating the entire tale to Joseph and Paul. She knew Joseph might get angry and take a wrong step. He _really _didn't need to be on Riddle's wrong side. She scanned her two friends scribbling away furiously on their respective essays.

She had already finished her homework. Lucia and joseph, however, hadn't bothered to write the last essay for their potions class and were now working overtime to get it completed before the deadline the next day. She felt a little wave of self-satisfaction at this. She certainly prized her organisational skills and to see others suffering from the lack of the same was sometimes amusing.

"You know you could have got it done last weekend…" She began but was cut short by Joseph.

"Not now, Hermione… Seriously, can you not see us _swamped_…?" He groaned and continued. "The way you gloat, sometimes you're as bad as Malfoy…" Lucia smiled at her parchment as Hermione's eyes flashed in indignation. She caught his quill hand and forced him to look at her.

"You're wrong. I am _nothing _like Malfoy!" She hissed. Joseph, seemingly startled by her ferocity, drew back a little and looked at her in apology.

"Right… Cool down, Hermione… I meant no offence…" he said placating her. "I had no idea you disliked the pompous git so much. I can't blame you though…"" He winked at her as he finished. She let go of his hand and stood up abruptly.

"You have no idea…" She muttered and walked away from their table. That little flare of anger on her part surprised her. True, she hated Malfoy for what his son and grandson had grown up to become but there was no real reason for her outburst. Other than being a snobbish ass and following Riddle around like a puppy, he hadn't really harmed her. Unless you counted the one time he had stood guard while Avery accosted her in the street. _Hmm… that was a good reason._ But she hadn't been able to control her anger just now. It had _simply _burst out of her. She shook her head.

She had reached the girls bathroom. She couldn't believe her bladder. She had to use the lavatory so many times a day that she wondered if she should simply get huge chamber pots for her room. _Or maybe fix a toilet to her bedroom floor. It would make the bedroom pretty._ She smiled humourlessly at this last train of thought. The morning sicknesses had been quite exhausting. She felt like this was another sort of hell contrived to make her suffer more. Every morning, she retched till her intestine felt like it had been squeezed painfully to its limit and then thrown over, her back was stiff and hurt and her throat felt sore. As she sat down for her classes, she wondered if she would faint or something from weakness in the morning. So far, the fates had been kinder. She hadn't fainted. No one knew of her condition apart from Riddle. He had kept it to himself.

She knew she needed to see a doctor. But she couldn't afford one. It was still quite early in her pregnancy and she was keeping a check on herself by using the vast repertoire of spells she had come across in a few books she had brought. So far everything was normal. Her vitals were normal, the baby seemed to be doing alright as well. But still, she was no professional. Her knowledge was still limited. She _would _need to see a doctor. No wizard Healer would do. The word would get around about a single unwed mother. She couldn't risk it. A muggle doctor was what she needed. She would wait some more time before she went to see one though. At most she could afford two visits. The second one would have to be for delivery. She didn't even _want_ to think about how she would accomplish _that._ She would have to tell someone who could help her. She would need to use potent glamour spells to conceal it as well. And with the large amount of glamour spells she currently used to disguise her battle scars, it would be extremely difficult. She sighed and looked at her worn face in the mirror. _Soon. She needed to resolve these issues soon_.

Perhaps she should ask Snape for a book on the topic he had recommended. He did _say_ it would be important. But she was hesitant to go ask for anything. She wasn't sure of herself around him. He seemed more preoccupied than ever during classes. He treated her just like any student, just like he had always done. And she, in her turn, kept her distance. But she worried. Her conscience kept pricking at her. It kept imploring her to tell him. Hermione thought her conscience had gone over the top. Her so called _husband_, let's face it, that is what he was, had made it clear he had no desire to associate with her or anything remotely connected to her. Unless it was related to the war or mortal peril. There was no reason why he would change. He was a man of his word. She knew as much.

She tilted her head backward and looked at the ceiling. Maybe she should retire to her dormitory. She was rather tired. She would be able to face Snape better with a well-rested mind. With these thoughts swirling in her head, she left the washroom only to run into a girl. Their heads collided and Hermione stumbled backwards.

"I'm sorry… I wasn't looking…." she said as she massaged her head but stopped as she saw the girl examining her with interest and curiosity. She was a Slytherin judging by the green crest on her robe.

"It's alright…" She smiled at her_. Hmm. A friendly Slytherin. Could be a trap_. "I am Jessica Langue. You are Hermione, right…?" The pretty girl offered her hand. Hermione looked at it suspiciously for a moment and then shook it, against her better judgement.

"I'll be on my way then…" Hermione muttered and nodded at the girl before continuing on her way to her dormitory. The girl had made her distinctly uncomfortable, even with her friendly gesture_. She had become extremely paranoid, hadn't she?_ She snorted at herself. _What was with her today? _

Her paranoia had a genuine stimulus. Riddle's actions the day before had truly annoyed and confused her. _Why had he given her wand back? Surely, he could not possibly gain anything from it. What was his plot? Why was he pursuing her relentlessly? No, that was wrong. He hadn't bothered her since that night when she had impulsively tried to commit suicide. _That had been a lapse of clear thinking and melancholy on her part. It would have cost her life. She was ashamed of the memory. It made her uneasy. True, she did not see suicide as a morally wrong act. She didn't even think that it was the easy way out. _How could dying willingly ever be an easy way out? No, she was no coward for having contemplated it._

_The world doesn't see it that way. _

_Cowardice is simply a label. Nothing more. The bravest crumble and the weakest rise. There are no rules. _

No, what truly bothered her was that _Riddle_ had helped her. And now that she looked back on it, she wasn't really willing to die yet. It was not a question of bravery. Simply the survival instinct. She knew in her heart that her time had not come yet. Riddle's behaviour perplexed her. He was her mortal enemy. She hated him. Yet, he saved her once and passed up a chance to torture her the next time. _And_ he had returned her wand. She knew it was a game. It had to be. He was a master player. But what the game was, she could not discern_. Did he want to seduce the information he thought she held out of her? Oddly, she did not think so_. Earlier she had been without any aim, much less a life. But now, she could hope for something. She did have another life growing inside her. She could perhaps learn to love it.

_Hollow love. _

She smiled wanly to herself. _She could fight. She knew how to. She was good at it_. About the one positive thing war had bestowed on her. Her battle instincts were still fresh though a little blunted by lack of use over the year. She knew a war was brewing. She could contribute. She could make an effort so that the future didn't turn out the way she had known it. For her progeny. _After the baby was born, of course._

* * *

The round office room was tastefully decorated. The furniture, imported from east, lent an exotic air to the richly carpeted enclosure. The plants, mostly foreign varieties, hung by the walls near the windows. However, the man seated at the semi-circular desk seemed oblivious to the beauty and luxury that surrounded him. He was seated in his overlarge chair with his chin resting on the knuckles of his hands which were supported by his elbows in the same desk. The middle aged man was of medium stature, his hair was sandy brown and his shrewd blue were eyes lost in thought. He sat motionless as if the weight of the entire world depended on him.

Presently, a knock sounded on the oak doors of his office and a thin bald man entered with a couple of files in his hand. He walked over to the desk and placed them in front of the man. Thereafter, he drew backwards and stood respectfully at some distance.

"How many…?" The sandy haired man asked his secretary in a tired voice.

"Fifty. It was a small village. No one survived." The secretary supplied the information.

The sandy haired man simply nodded with a faraway look in his eyes.

"We are losing. At this rate, they will besiege London by the end of the year." He spoke after a substantial pause. The secretary simply inclined his head. His face was lined with worry.

"Sir… If I may, I might have a solution…" he began hesitatingly. "I have a contact, an unscrupulous one, he claims that there is a man who demands audience. He says he has the key to avert the disaster that looms over our heads…"

Rowan Smith looked up at his secretary's face with a frown on his face.

"And you believe that this man is _better informed _than the Ministry…?"He asked sceptically.

"I do not know, Sir. My contact says that the man is certain of himself. He is quite intimidating. He says he has lived through a war and is familiar with the tactics of our enemy." The secretary spoke smoothly, even though he was unsure of himself. Rowan's Eyebrows arched a little at his secretary's last statement.

"Who is he…?" The minister asked after a pause.

"He hasn't given a name. My contact has described his outward appearance though. A short man, reddish hair with a pointed face."

The minister nodded at his statement. Wise people never gave out their identities unless necessary. And if this man had any brains, he had most probably poly juiced himself before he met his secretary's dubious _contact_. He looked at the file in front of him and placed his hand on the cover. He closed his eyes. The Aurors had done all they could. Grindelwald's forces were too strong. They could hold him at bay only for so long. They would continue to do so. But the enemy couldn't be beaten. Their ruthless leader was unbeatable. They would lose the war, those were the statistics_. Very well, he would see the man. It couldn't do much harm. _

"Very well, Nestor. Contact this man… Set up a short meeting…" He sighed and opened the files. The secretary simply nodded and bowed before exiting the room.

* * *

Severus scratched a malicious T on the parchment in red ink before reaching for the next one. The students were simply… _abysmal_. Even now, as he sat at his desk an scanned the bobbing heads of the foolish imbeciles, he realised that they seemed duller than the class he had had the misfortune to teach back home. Seriously. The girls were whiny and sobbed at the simplest remarks. Only yesterday, a student had fainted at the sight of dormice they were supposed to be using. A few days ago, another chit had refused to touch a perfectly clean specimen of Titan lizards they were supposed to be transfiguring because it had '_smelled funny'_. Obviously, she had ended up with detention for every single day of the week. Girl or no, he never let off his students easy. The boys were even worse. He had personally had to escort a few howling, yes _howling _specimens of his species out of his classroom when they had broken down and refused to do anything except sit and cry. _Seriously, what kind of boys cried? Sure, his remarks were scathing and acerbic, but he had never expected them to simply bawl on his floor. For God's sake, they were nearing manhood._ The students were squeamish, petty and weak. If it were up to him, he would simply starve the lot of them until they learned better. And these weaklings had spawned the people who ran the future society_. No wonder things had become so bleak back home. _

"Um… sir…?"A quivering male voice reached his eardrums. He put down his quill and looked over at the boy. A Slytherin.

"Yes, Mr. Flint…"

"I need a… a new beetle…" The boy gulped and looked at his shoes. "Malfoy accidentally squashed mine…" A few Gryffindors to the left sniggered.

"That's about all he _can_ do, Flint. You should be _cheering_…"Joseph spoke from the back of the class. He was seated with Hermione who tried to look inconspicuous as the entire class turned to look at him, wondering what unfortunate punishment would befall him now. Malfoy, who was seated next to Avery on the other side, turned red at this comment and let out a string of choice curse words under his breath. It was a known fact that Malfoy and Potter detested each other. They never passed a chance to get a shot at each other. But to take a jibe at the other in front the most hated professor was almost close to suicide_. Almost_.

Severus simply watched the spectacle with indifference and turned back to his parchment_. Hmm, hatred for each other ran in their families, it seemed. How ironic. _

"Zero for your work today, Lestrange. Detention for the two of you, Mr Malfoy _and_ Mr Potter." He drawled in his silky baritone of his voice.

"But Sir… I didn't do anything…"Malfoy protested weakly but was quickly silenced by a sharp look from the Transfiguration Professor. He sat down, defeated, and threw Potter a nasty look promising vengeance. Severus observed the exchange with amusement. Good_. Let them get in trouble. I will be only too happy to deal out appropriate punishments. Some stress buster._ He shifted back into his chair and surveyed the classroom once again. Not many had managed to complete their assigned work. Hermione seemed to have done it. But then again, she always had managed to do everything perfectly. At least she wasn't a know-it-all anymore His eyes slid over to Riddle who too sat in his seat observing him. Their eyes met for a second before Riddle averted his. _The boy was up to something. Again. Never mind. He would find his precious Horcruxes this weekend and slaughter him himself. Painfully._

* * *

Hermione took the longest time in packing her bag when the class finished. She was ready to ask for the book. She felt a sense of Déjà vu overcome her as she remembered the last time she had asked him for a book. That had ended in irrevocable disaster. As the last student moved out, she reached his desk and bit her lip, wondering how to address him. He looked rather tired. He was bent over his parchment, scribbling snarky Ts. _What would she tell her child about its father? That he was a malicious, vindictive war hero of kinds and he had lived bravely. Perhaps. No, she couldn't say that she had hated him._ Children looked up to their parents. Maybe she would craft a fabulous story of how he was the bravest man and had died saving the nation. _Hmm, that sounded nice. With some work, it would be the perfect story. And she couldn't really feel guilty about lying, could she?_ The man didn't want an offspring. She had no obligation to inform him of the same. It was for the best. For both her and the baby. _It was the right thing to do._

"What is it, Miss Lafayette?" He snapped at her. Now she remembered why she hated the man. Seriously, he could not have made it harder. But for some reason, she didn't flinch.

"Sir… I need a book, on the research project _you _assigned for me…"She spoke resolutely, trying not to come off as scared. Snape simply raised his eyebrows at her in confusion for a moment before comprehension dawned on him and his lips parted slightly. He nodded and went back to mutilating essays.

"Tonight. After dinner. My office."

She nodded absently and clutched at her bag before walking out. She needed to visit the lavatory again.

* * *

The dinner that night was not a quiet affair. With only a week left to the much anticipated Halloween Ball, most of the students were talking animatedly. A few even ventured upon the game of dare and asked out their targets. Most were, sadly, turned down. Females did not appreciate that game apparently. Tom surveyed the Great Hall with disinterest as he ate. Right across from him, at the Gryffindor table sat Hermione with Potter and Weasley. The annoying dung head seemed to have developed an infatuation for Hermione, it seemed. He watched Potter bend over backwards to get Hermione to laugh but failed abysmally as he spilled soup down his front. Hermione blushed and handed him her napkin. The boy looked infuriatingly pleased at her gesture of kindness. He could complicate matters if she fancied him. _Or simplify them. Hmm…_

"Tom…" Malfoy's drawl awakened him from his musings. The boy held a thin file in his hands. Tom turned his questioning gaze towards the blond haired youth.

"It's the information you demanded. Right from the Headmaster's office. " Abraxas supplied the answer somewhat smugly. Tom looked at the file and gave Abraxas a curt nod before placing it discreetly into his bag. He was eager to read the file but showed nothing on his Grecian features. He finished his soup and left the Great Hall with poise befitting a regal Prince. _Hmmm, he was technically a prince. Being the heir of Slytherin and all. _

Once inside his room, he slid the bag off his shoulder and pried out the file. It had the Hogwarts seal alright. Most of the information listed therein was of little interest to him, it listed of the Professor's career details and such. Only two things intrigued him. The Professor had a mastery in Defence against the Dark Arts as well as Potions_. How very clever of him. Was this information even true? It could be fabricated, of course. But if it was true, the man was extremely brilliant. _Not as exceptional as Tom, but still, considering that he had nearly twenty years of experience over the him, he might be a possible danger to him at this point of time. Now, this was an important development that Tom could not ignore. The second information was that he had fought in the war in France. So technically, he was a refugee_. How very convenient for him. No one knew him in the British Isles then. This was extremely suspicious. _

He turned the pages to find Hermione's record. She was an orphan, he parents died in the French war. That could explain the pathetic despair she radiated all the time. Well, less of it now-a-days, but still he knew it was there. But one statement in the file caught his interest. _Temporary guardian while in the British territory: Severus Snape. _

Tom's eyes went a little wide at this. She was under his protection for as long as she was in Britain. Seeing that they had both lived in and fled France, it wasn't unlikely_. But what could be the nature of relationship between them? And could it hamper his plans? _He snapped his fingers and the lights went out. He needed the Professor out of the picture. In a position of power, he could be an unnecessary complication that Tom did not want.

* * *

AN: Again thanks to everyone who reviewed. , Concrete63, Atlantean Diva, Kate, SunDog, Amar 2. :) :)

Concrete63: I understand it is rather difficult to imagine her in this situation. But, wait a while, it does get better for her. Perhaps.

Amar 2: Of course we all want Severus to be happy. In case I missed out, he is my favourite character in the books. i won't let him down. :) :) (wink)

Atlantean Diva: Gosh, your responses simply overwhelmed me. I am truly thankful to you for all the feedback. You seem a bit displeased with the story, all the points you mentioned have genuine validity. Let me address them one by one:

1. Harry left the wizarding world because he couldn't live there, it reminds him of all that he lost and thus he chooses to leave. It isn't unusual for people to leave the place that reminds them constantly of loss. I did not say that he would give up magic. The ministry forcing a marriage on him was the last straw and it simply made him leave the country and the wizarding world because it reminds him incessantly of what he has suffered. He doesn't have to give up practicing magic.

2. You're right in that I did not explain the rules of this world. I will cater to the same and update the first chapter. But yes, the marriage law is valid in Britain only. The only word that I can offer in my defence is that I wanted to skip the marriage part and focus on what happened next. We do have quite a lot of marriage law fics, after all. :P

3. The story is canon compliant w.r.t the fact that most of the incidents that happened in the books did take place. But now, after the war, there is an upheaval that changes the timeline. Of course, it may be labelled AU, but the original incidents still occurred.

4. Hermione's behaviour in chapter 9 stemmed from survival instincts. She had been in situations where a split second decision would mean the difference between life and death. And she couldn't be expected to take Tom's presence with composure. She knew that he would be at Hogwarts, but knowing and facing are two different things. Plus, finding yourself alone with your mortal enemy isn't something to be taken lightly. She was obviously distressed and felt that she was cornered. Sometimes, the best of us assume wrongly act on pure instinct. That is exactly what happened to her.

5. Hermione is a little ooc, I agree. but don't say that she is spineless. She fought bravely and won. It has only been a little over a year since the war ended and over 8 months since Ron died. She is allowed her time to grieve. And crying isn't weak, it is an attribute of healing. The things that have happened to her are not be taken easily. No one could cope with them so easily. Hence, she may seem weak and wanting but she still has her strength. She chooses to stay and face what the marriage law throws in her face, she also recovers quickly from the terrible ordeal of time travel and its implications and manages to hold herself together. She doesn't really have much to look forward to, yet. No wonder that she behaves as she does. Have you ever lost someone you loved? I have, and believe me the pain doesn't go away no matter how strong you are. She will recover, but it takes time.

And as far as Snape and Riddle are concerned, it wouldn't be proper to compare them with her. Snape has twenty years of experience over her. He has seen and done it all and has had twenty years to recover from the same. He is still fighting his demons. And Riddle, he hasn't really undergone his share of trauma. He has no reason to not be the arrogant prat that he is.

6. I never said that she couldn't raise a child on her own. I explicitly stated that she is saving money and has a correspondence job so she would have enough when she has her kid. She resents that she has to depend on Snape's allowance right now. Yes, Tom and Hermione in a relationship would be very difficult but it will get there. And believe me, Tom is not obsessed with Hermione. He is very curious, though.

Will she ever be a strong person? That isn't too difficult to answer. She already is. Will she be able to act upon her strength? That is what i shall explore in the upcoming chapters. It will be a long story, of course, in case you didn't already figure that out. :) :)

As much as I want to explain everything, words run short. I hope I did some justice to your concerns.

**As always, read and review. Thanks. :)**


	16. Chapter 16

**I have used two lines of the song 'Your love will kill me' from Notre dame in this chapter. Go on, listen to it if you haven't heard it before. I totally relate the voice to Severus's voice :)**

**Chapter 16**

* * *

**Forgive me, my love... I have sinned.**

**I have watched you fall to the ground and burn. **

**And now, when your flesh lies six feet under the darkened earth... I come to seek absolution.**

**It's is done and now the echo of your voice shall haunt me, forevermore.**

* * *

_"No Severus, the book says otherwise..." The pretty girl with emerald eyes snapped at him in annoyance."We might get into trouble..." She glanced over at Slughorn as she spoke. He was, as always, blissfully oblivious to his favourite students' talking out of turn._

_"No, we won't." He retorted, snatching the slicing knife back from her and fuming that she doubted his superior skill. _

_"Trust me."_

_His eyes softened as she huffed and crossed her arms and let him slice their firma beans **his** way. His eyes traced the outline of her beautiful fourteen year old face and wondered about their future. He wished he could confess his love for her. He wished he could simply tell her how he adored and worshipped her. Even at this tender age, he knew his love was true and pure. **Just like her.**_

_Their potion was brewed a half hour before the estimated time limit at the end of which Lily begrudgingly admitted that he was right. He felt oddly pleased that she had acknowledged his cleverness. He walked away from the class with a spring in his step. Lily was right beside him and observed him with obvious amusement._

_They turned the corner, contemplating each other. Potions was the last class of the day. They had ample time which they would be spending in fruitful endeavours of Transfiguration project and the like. They walked in companionable silence, having taken the short cut to the library which was unknown to most of the students. Severus pondered upon the wonderful scent that his neighbour carried on her. It made his heart stop beating whenever she happened to come upon him unannounced. Its soft, enticing fragrance was as natural as the sallowness of his skin. He had been breathing in its wholesome surroundings ever since they had become friends when eight years old. He wondered how it would be to hold her soft hand as a lover in his. He wondered how the softness of her skin reflected the tenderness of her heart. These were the cogitations that lined up in his mind as a mischievous shadow lurked stealthily behind them. Suddenly, mild swishing of an expensive fabric was heard and a whispered curse registered itself in their midst. It missed its aim by centimeters. Severus pushed Lily to the other side and fired a spell of his own making at their assailant without forethought._

_"Vulnus!"_

_ He hissed sharply. The boy with black hair was hit squarely in the chest and blasted off his feet. He fell backwards on the hard stone floor with a heavy thud. His curse had drawn a shallow slash across the boy's shirt from which blood oozed. Seeing the enemy, Sirius Black in this instance, thusly incapacitated for the time being, he turned his attention to Lily. She stood massaging her elbow where it had grazed on the floor as she fell. She appeared unharmed otherwise. He breathed out in relief._

_"What the hell, Severus!" Lily's accusing eyes met his obsidian black ones. Severus was bewildered. **The filthy slime had attacked him first! Why was Lily looking at him with anger in her eyes? He hadn't done anything wrong.**_

_"But Lil, he attacked us first... I was merely defending..." His voice faltered as she rushed forward to the now unconscious boy and tore open the bloodied shirt. The wound was shallow, nothing fatal. "I know that! What freak kind of dark curse did you use **now**? Look at him! He's unconscious and bleeding. You could have simply stunned him and we would have got away! Do you have** any idea** what kind of trouble you could get into for this?" She shot him a nasty look as she drew away from Black. "Now fix this!"_

_Now he understood. It was the curse. She despised his predilection for the dark arts. He had never been able to convince her that it was the use to which a curse was put that made it dark. He looked at Black once more. He did seem to be in a bad state, he had had no idea the curse would be quite as potent. But then, Black had thrown him to the werewolf. Although, Lily was asking him for something. To help him. It wouldn't matter. He didn't know a counter curse. He hadn't invented any._

_"I can't." He whispered as Lily cast a coagulation charm on the boy and shot him a glare." I don't know how."_

_The infirmary wasn't far off. The nurse would certainly have a remedy. She levitated Black and looked at him._

_"Severus, You are my dearest friend... Please, don't repeat this. One of these days, this darkness will come between us..." She hesitated and continued. "And I know you will lose..." She whispered the last sentence and marched away from him, levitating Black in her wake. Her tone had been one of despair and resignation. He hoped she didn't hate him for this. He knew she was angry and it would require ceaseless effort on his part to make up to her again. He glanced at the few drops of blood on the floor as the scene shifted._

**_Your love will kill me..._**

**_And you will bear my curse for as long as your life will be..._**

_"Severus...Please..." Dumbledore's imploring voice sounded in his numb brain. He looked at the frail man standing in front of him. For all his failings, for all his manipulations and strategies, the man was an accomplished individual. He certainly did not deserve this manner of death. **Not at his hands. Not without a fight.** But the old man had chosen this. He had backed Severus into this corner with no escape. He did not want to kill. He wouldn't feel remorse for this man. Not he who had effectively crafted the emotional blackmail that led Severus into this predicament. He reminded Severus everyday of how Lily's death had been due to his contrivance and how he owed it to her son to make things right. **Did his hands shake just a little? No, he couldn't allow this. He had an audience. He had to put up a show.**_

_ The night showed its true colours, as always. Of darkness and light, he thought no more. If he could, he would turn back time and reclaim his life. The cloudy grey of the sky mimicked the bleakness of his own heart. And there he stood, in the astronomy tower, facing the one man he had thought could lead him to redemption. He stood facing the man, ready to kill him, his wand held aloft, his face giving nothing away. He summoned all the hatred that lay buried beneath the sea of apparent calm and hurled the green curse at the wizened man. _

**_The time stopped. _**

**_The clock ticked._**

**_An owl hooted somewhere, perhaps._**

**_The wide expanse of endless space held nothing but emptiness._**

**_His heart beat thudded in his eardrums. _**

_Somewhere near him, a female voice cackled and fired the Dark mark into the sky. He turned to look at the pale face of Draco and his widened eyes as the scene shifted once more._

**_Your love will kill me..._**

_He stood facing the portly man who officiated marriages set up by the new ministry decree. The man shifted in his seat behind the desk as he looked over the papers. After a while, he looked up to glance at the tall man's hard face and smiled weakly as he walked over to the standing couple._

_"Everything seems to be in order. If you will place your right hand in your betrothed's left one..." His smile weakened as he looked at Hermione's ashen face and sighed._

_"Please, I know that this isn't an ideal situation but we must do what we can to preserve our society. The marriage is indissoluble but if the law gets rescinded, it will be annulled. The magical clause of the law's termination would supersede the old magic that goes into the binding ceremony. And the minisitry's logistics have chosen the two of you for each other for compatibility and reproductive quality..." He stumbled upon his last words as the Potions Master snarled at him_

_Severus's jaw was clenched as he took Hermione's hand in his. Hermione looked faint. He closed his eyes for a second and Lily's youthful face flashed in front of his eyes._

**_Your love will kill me..._**

**_And you will bear my curse for as long as your life will be._**

_He opened his eyes to look at the tear soaked face of his young bride. Her timid hand was too small for his large calloused one. But like his hands, it was scarred. The coldness of her skin permeated his and froze his heart as he repeated the vows after the man without reflecting upon their meaning. All he remembered of his holy wedding vows were three last lines that bound them irrevocably unless the law was withdrawn._

_"I pledge to thee, my blood, my flesh and my soul." The man spoke solemnly, his eyes on the couple before him._

_"I pledge to thee, my blood, my flesh and my soul." Severus repeated after him, resenting the last word. His soul had once been his. Once upon a time. Long long ago. When lily was still alive._

_** Lily**._

**_Your love will kill me..._**

His eyes opened of their own accord as he woke up in cold sweat. To have one's memories haunt you was a different thing. He could hide them under the impenetrable shields of occlumency that he had mastered over the years. But in dreams, they ran unbridled and wreaked havoc in his mind. He could not take the dreamless sleep potion everyday. He needed sharp reflexes. He rolled over to his right side and closed his eyes once more, hoping that he would fall asleep again and remember nothing when he woke up. He cursed under his breath as sleep refused to calm his haywire mind. Letting out a sigh of frustration, he sat in his bed and gazed into the darkness of the room.

In darkness, his mind was exceptionally clear. It heightened his senses and gave a keener edge to his intellect. But it also roused unbidden emotions that led him into turmoil. He leaned back against the bedpost and swallowed some spit. His parched throat greeted him with an unpleasant sensation.

_He had dreamed of Lily._

_ After a long time._

_ She spoke of darkness._

_ As she had done, a long while ago._

He saw the last moments of Dumbledore played in his mind again. Over the last two years, those few moments had driven him to temporary seizures of delirium whenever he saw them in his nightmares. He had no love for the man. But there had been some respect. _Some_. _Then why should the murder affect him so?_ He had killed countless innocent souls before. This was another number added to the large repertoire of his sins. He remembered. He could taste his own fear from long ago on his tongue right now. The darkness was rejoicing. Fear was an easy emotion to manipulate._ NO!_ He cleared his mind of Dumbledore's last images with great effort and reclaimed his reason.

He had dreamed of Hermione as well. Strange, how he had begun to refer to her by her first name in his mind. _Why had that happened? More importantly, when?_ He had repeated his wedding vows in the dream. He recalled with clarity now what he had ignored the first time.

"I pledge to you my blood, my flesh and my soul..." He whispered silently to the darkness. It paid no heed to him and remained mute. He waved his hand and lit the torches in his room. The next day would be taxing, it was the Hogsmeade weekend. He had work to do. Fucked up self pity would lead him nowhere. _Nowhere._

* * *

_Strange how the effects of pain linger on endlessly, even when one is happy, in the best of situations._

Hermione, Lucia, Joseph and Paul made their way through the overcrowded sweet shop to the door. Hermione hadn't purchased anything, but Joseph and Paul had indulged themselves a little too much judging by their bulging pockets and the overlarge sack of assorted eatables they had bought. They both hailed from wealthy families. They could afford it. Lucia had resorted to a few cheap peppermint candies. Hermione, too, felt a little disappointed at not being able to buy a few things from the colourful shop. She had never had to face that problem before. Her parents had been quite well off. Now, she was all alone with a baby on the way. She couldn't squander away her allowance and the small amount of money she earned in her correspondence job.

"So, Ladies... What do you say we go to the dress shop...?" Joseph, who was quite conscious about his appearance at times, asked them and gestured to the elegant shop that lay at the corner of the street. Hermione felt a little more ashamed at this. She shook her head.

"No... um... I don't think I... would be going..." She smiled weakly at him and looked away. Joseph stared at her for a moment with opened mouth and shut it after a while. She didn't notice him grab her hand and lead her towards the shop.

"Joseph... What are you..." She began, flabbergasted by the boy leading her to the shop, but he cut across her sentence.

"Look, Hermione. I know that you have problems, but that is no reason to not enjoy a little. You have been rather sad lately and I believe an enjoyable party might put you in the right spirit." He halted before the shop and faced her. "I'm buying you whatever you choose..."

Hermione was greatly moved by his kindness and simply stood where she was. Lucia and Paul were nowhere in sight. They had, perhaps, entered the shop already.

"No Joseph, I can't... I wouldn't be able to repay you, in any case..." She spoke after a while, looking at her feet and wondering if that excuse would be good enough for him.

"But you don't _have_ to repay me, Hermione..." He spoke quietly. "We are friends, consider it a gift..." He squeezed her hand gently. The warmth emanating from the simple gesture spread through her heart and made her feel comforted.

"Joseph, you know I wouldn't... It... It wouldn't be right..." She spoke more resolutely this time, looking him in the eyes. He gave her a cheeky grin.

"Alright, then. How about_ this_..." He flung his palm towards her in a dramatic motion, perhaps to emphasise whatever idea he had come up with. "_You_ come with_ me_ to the ball as my date and_ I_ will buy you the dress. It would be the proper thing to do. I would have had to get _some_ girl as a date anyway and buy her a dress. I'd rather buy you one and take you... How about it...?" He rubbed his hands and looked at her with benign expectation.

Hermione bit her lip at this reply. It was true, the rules in this era were extremely... medieval. The men bought dresses for their dates who were obliged to wear them as a mark of favour to their male companions._ But... would it be right?_ Joseph fancied her. _Well, perhaps_. He did treat her as an intimate friend but she couldn't be sure. Maybe she was just a replacement friend now that Paul spent so much time with Lucia. But he hadn't really treated her much differently. He sat with her and worked with her but there was nothing in his conversation to suggest that he had any hidden feelings. Maybe she was simply over analysing things. Before today, he hadn't even_ hinted_ at anything remotely romantic. And even now, as she looked at him standing there with a soft smile on his lips, he was merely offering to help a friend. She wouldn't be able to go to the ball without a partner and so far she hadn't had any offers._ Unless she counted Riddle's_. She wanted to witness the event as well, the only party she had had the chance to be in at Hogwarts was the Yule Ball during her fourth year which had been a disaster because of Ron.

_Ron... _

She swallowed and looked at her feet again.

"I don't know, Joseph... I'll come with you but maybe I can borrow someone's dress..." She mumbled heavily.

"Non-sense. Only the best for my date..." He patted her hand and led her towards the shop's door. " Besides, it is a masquerade ball. You won't be able to borrow anyone's dress because they wouldn't have any to spare."

Joseph was too kind._ Just like Harry had been._

_When does the perpetual agony of remembrance end..._

An hour later found the group of four standing outside the shop, cowering against the strong gusts of wind that overwhelmed them. Lucia had selected a pretty pink dress for herself with a golden mask. The two boys had decided to go ahead as the two heroes of a medieval wizard war. Hermione, on the other hand, had selected a low cost black dress for which she intended to pay Joseph back as soon as she could. She would work harder than ever if she had to. Though Lucia hadn't said so, Hermione believed that Paul had asked her out. They both seemed to somehow... _fit_. Joseph, on the other had, seemed quite content not knowing what the two of them were up to. She guessed it was uncomfortable for him now that his two best friends were kind of involved. _Well, secretly._

A sharp stroke of biting wind hit Hermione on her cheek and she turned her head to the other side. Tired by their outing, the four of them were slowly trudging along the path to the castle. Most of the students had already left, only a few others including the chaperons remained. Hermione breathed the fresh air of her surroundings. The trees, the freshly mown grass, the earthly scented fragrance of the harsh wind; all were dear to her. Sometimes, it felt nice to be able to bask in the pleasant knowledge of how Hogwarts had been before it was ruined by the war. Her darker musings hadn't let her appreciate the enigmatic bliss that nature was for a long time, perhaps that could change now. She did need regular exercise and a few walks. It was recommended in all the books on pregnancy that she had perused so far. These musings occupied her mind till the small group reached a relatively deserted part of the road. A surprise awaited them there.

Two loud bangs issued from the corner and two dull thuds echoed near them. Paul and Lucia had fallen to the ground, stunned. Malfoy and Avery stood around the corner, smirking as they readied themselves for the attack once more.

Hermoine grabbed Joseph's hand and pulled him away as another stunner went past them. They had both drawn their wands by now and Hermione fired a strong confounding spell at them. It hit the mark and Avery was thrown off his feet. She had also managed to duck the curse he had sent her way. But Joseph's reflexes had been rather wanting and he was hit by Malfoy's body-bind cum incarcerous curse and was immediately knocked off his feet. He fell to the ground, his body rigid and taut. She raised her wand to hit Malfoy with a painful hex.

"Stop, or I will hurt him..." He sneered and raised a challenging eyebrow towards her as he held his want pointed at Joseph. Hermione stood in the midst of chaos and looked at her friends. Two stunned, one bound. She could take Malfoy._ Hell, she could take ten of Malfoy._ But this was too much like the war. She had stood in the same way as people younger and older than her had fallen. Stood helpless and pained. She reaffirmed her grip on her wand.

"What makes you think I care...? " She shot back at him and drew closer to Lucia.

Malfoy gave her an annoying wink as he hit Joseph with a slicing hex in the knee. Her widened eyes and a short gasp gave away her obvious distress for her friend._ Should she hit him with a spell?_ But it might be too dangerous. She might be too late. The stupid prat might hit Joseph with something darker. _Fuck it, she wasn't going to give into the black mails of this version of the whiny pureblood._

With that thought in mind, she cast a non verbal disarming spell at him with such swiftness that he didn't even have time to blink before his wand flew away from her hand to his. He sprang back in surprise but she fired another stinging hex followed by a stunner before he could escape. With her enemy thus vanquished, she roused Lucia and Paul and finally disentangled Joseph from the ropes and lifted the body bind off him. He immediately jumped to his feet and kicked Malfoy twice in obvious rage but went to his knees at the pain he had ignored. The slicing hex had cut him lightly but still he was bleeding. Hermione tended to his wound and resealed it with a healing charm she had learned long ago during war. Paul and Lucia too stood fuming over Avery. Paul looked at him with an attentive expression, as if the stunned boy was something interesting. Lucia, however, slapped his face twice. They collected their scattered belongings that lay strewn across the road and straightened their robes. Paul thanked her while Lucia and Joseph drew her into a hug of appreciation.

"The malicious imp! the nerve of him, to attack when no one was looking. I tell you that that is why they sort them into Slytherin..." Joseph fumed as they covered the last part of their walk to the castle. Paul's expression was one of mild curiosity. _Seriously, did nothing unsettle the boy?_ Lucia nodded in agreement.

"By the way Hermione, that was some pretty cool spell work. I mean, you are so skilled. I'm glad you're on our side and not theirs. You could be one heck of a fighter." Joseph pressed her shoulder slightly to convey his meaning. Hermione looked away. How could she tell them that she _had_ been a _skilled warrior? And that it was nothing to be proud of. The word 'skilled' concealed the real meaning: Mass Murderer. _How could she tell them that she had killed in the war? That not many in the school stood a chance against her in a duel. In fact, she was sure that she could defeat almost all of them. Except maybe Riddle._ Riddle._

_Hadn't that been the reason why she had stopped fighting?_ The only reason why she had simply given up protesting against the tides of fate and taken all that was dealt to her with resignation. Because she was afraid of causing more hurt. Yes she could fight and win. But victory comes at a great cost. The cost of one's own soul. It was a deal with the devil. She sighed mentally and reminded herself that she had _needed_ to act today. And Malfoy had been the perpetrator of the said circumstances. Plus, she hadn't really harmed him. She had come close, but not quite.

* * *

The evening found Hermoine sitting in the library, her head buried in an arithmancy book. She had left her friends sitting in the common room criticising Malfoy and his friends. It was fun for a while but it grated on her nerves now. Also, she needed to clear her head and had thus retired to her familiar abode. She needed to research on this particular topic._ If what the book Snape had give her was to be trusted, then the elemental connection needed to be tested against theoretical time travel._ She had been sitting there for a while now, trying to figure out the theoretical basis for time travel in her arithmantic calculations. But it was a cumbersome task and left her greatly agitated. _Well, nobody said it would be easy._

"Ah, there you are... Hermione..." A soft male voice purred in her ears. She jumped at the noise and came face to face with Tom Riddle, who, ignoring the disgusted expression on her face, sat down at her table. She stared at him in disbelief and thought of telling him off. But then, she regained her senses and restrained herself. She had sought to keep away from him and was succeeding so far. She wouldn't mess that up. She made to collect her books and rise from the chair when Tom placed his palm on the top of her hand and stopped her.

"No, please, I needed to speak with you. I... Don't go on my account, I'll leave if you say so." With that he withdrew his hand and placed it on the table. Her eyes went to the place his hand had touched a few moments ago. _Had her disgust been toned down due to that simple touch?_ She did not recoil from him this time but pursed her lips all the same. He took this as a cue to her assent and relaxed slightly in her chair. She sat stiffly, refusing to look at his face and gazed at her hand resolutely.

"I come to you in my official capacity. Malfoy and Avery related to me that your friends and you had an altercation with them. He wants me to report the same to the head of your and my house." He ignored the scandalised expression on her face and continued. "Now, I want to know what actually happened so that I can make my decision." Hermione was dumbfounded at his statement. _Was this boy offering to be just and hear their side of the story?_

"Why would you do that, they are your friends..." She began but was cut short by his polite remark.

"No. They are my acquaintances. Nothing more. And why would you protest, do you _want_ me to be unfair and_ report_ you?" he continued in an insistent tone as she opened her mouth to argue. "I know what you think of me. But believe me, I am truly regretful for what I did to you. I do not want to be punished for the same, it is true, but I would not inflict any unjust punishment on you or your... friends. I take my duties very seriously."

Hermione blinked. She didn't want any help from him and certainly did not want to justify her actions to him. But... she didn't want to drag her friends into punishment because of her hatred for the boy in front of her. But he was acting civilly, and this baffled her._ He was still Voldemort, wasn't he? Or had that changed too? Could it? No, that was rubbish._ Poisonous toadstools don't change their colours.

_No, he was fucked up._ But telling him the real thing couldn't hurt, could it? There was nothing in it anyway. And he might act as he said. _Fat chance of that happening,_ she thought humorlessly.

"Very well." She began cautiously as he watched her speak with rapt attention. " Malfoy and Avery attacked us _first_. We didn't even get a chance to defend ourselves. And I simply stunned him, nothing more. And if he thinks he's going to lie and get us into trouble, you can tell him to shove it. I will not sit by and let him. I've had_ enough_!" She muttered rather more viciously than she had intended and collected her books in haste and left. Tom stared after her retreating form as she left.

The little outburst of anger had surprised her again. She hadn't wanted to badmouth anyone in front of him. She felt so... enraged. _Was it him? Was it the fact that he was acting so out of character that unnerved her? Was it possible... but it couldn't be..._ Voldemort was **always** evil. And he was known for his charming ways in his youth._ No this had to be a trick on his part. But what could he possibly gain by it?_ They both knew she would never speak, regardless of what he did. It was all a ruse, she repeated to herself.

It was all a ruse and nothing more. But... _could she be wrong?_ No, she shook her head. He was Voldemort._ Remember Ron._ Her fists clenched at the thought as she traversed the length of the deserted corridor to the Gryffindor Tower.

_How long does one grieve for those irrevocably lost? When does the past cease to haunt the present?_

* * *

Severus kicked the chair out of his way to his bedroom and banged the door shut behind him. His day had been entirely fruitless. He had literally _ransacked_ Riddle's room and simply couldn't find the cursed objects. He admitted that he may have been wrong about the ring, it may have been hidden somewhere else. But the bloody diary should have been there, in the room. His face darkened and he blasted a pretentious piece of carving off his desk.

He felt so... broken. _Cold and helpless._

_A if he was moving blindly in the darkness that had already condemned him to a fate worse than death._

_No!_ he had promised himself never to feel weakness._ Even when he had bared his soul at the devil's altar, he had stood stoically in the face of unimaginable pain._ Every time he had killed, he had felt a part of his soul die. He had innumerable holes where light should have pervaded his heart. Even so, he had stood in the last battle an faced the Dark Lord on Potter's side. He had sinned and paid. There was no reason for him to break down now. His walls could not collapse now. He could not allow rage and hatred to encompass his being once again. It had driven him into abyss once before._ No! He couldn't be weak. He couldn't let himself feel anything. He had to find a way out. He would find a way. There was always a way out of things... _

_But how?_ He sat down on his bed with a sigh and stared at the carpet. His shoulders were slumped and his head lowered. He had failed to locate the two Horcruxes that held the key to Riddle's demise._ Where could they be?_ At least, the diary should be here. It was supposed to be here. Unless... Unless he hid them somewhere else. Knowing the Dark lord's conniving ways, it was more than probable that he had. He rubbed his sleeve which hid the now active dark mark. It had faded to a faint outline after the war but in the immediate aftermath of their being flung into this world, it had activated again. Because the fucking monster was alive. But, back to the quest on hand... Where would a young, paranoid and dangerous dark wizard hide his most precious possession? The answer suddenly hit him with force. _In his dark lair. In his dark retreat. _

_Chamber of Secrets._

But how would he gain access to it? There was no way he could enter it. No one could. No one who didn't know parselmouth. He clenched his jaws once more. He will find a way. He had to.

He also had a meeting with the_ esteemed_ minister for magic. There was no way he would go and reveal himself to them in person. Even under their besieged state, they would try to capture him and gain the upper hand. He was well aware of how their politics worked. This time he wouldn't be a pawn. Not again.

Oh, and after that he had to meet_ Carl_._ His Imperius curse had worked just fine on that scarlet woman_, he snorted. For a Defence teacher, her strength was really lacking. She couldn't even struggle against it, let alone try to throw it off. No, she had worked just fine. She had relayed to him that she was asked to meet Carl on the Halloween Ball night. Stupid Headmaster. _Who held frivolous events to humour people when they could be learning to defend themselves? No, at least Dumbledore had had a little bit of sense._ This one was right off his rocker. But, nevertheless, the crowded night would provide ample cover for him and Donovan to slip away without any questions. With these thoughts in mind, he undressed silently without bothering to turn on the light.

He eased into the warm covers and stared at the ceiling. _He felt nothing._ He had efficiently buried all emotions under the deep sea of his Occlumency shields. But sometimes, of his own doing, a crack appeared in his shields and they crashed. _Like they had last night._ And just now, after his failure to retrieve the abominable objects. When he was younger and less accomplished at self control, he would hold himself in the bed and cry till he fell asleep. He still felt lost, like the little boy he once was. But this sense of non-belonging had driven him to act all the time. And that is what he did. He made plans and acted on them. the plans could be anyone's. As long as he worked, he was relieved. But when his nightly demons crept in and sought to unhinge what he had painstakingly conquered, he couldn't ignore it. And for this reason, he had gone to the dark recesses of magic and learnt the dark arts. For one as broken and tattered as he, inflicting pain had acted like a much needed drug. But just as a drug was wont to do, it took away his soul and he needed to harm more in order to calm himself and not feel. For so long, he had managed to avoid this pain. _For so long. _

The cream coloured ceiling was lit by shattered rays of moonlight that crept in through his always closed blinds. His thoughts turned to Hermione as he contemplated the darkness. She seemed happier lately._ Almost_. She also spent a great deal of time with that Joseph Potter and his gang. He obviously fancied her. He practically drooled over himself to get her attention. Not that it bothered him, but Severus thought she shouldn't be leading him on. He knew what unrequited love could do to teenage minds. And she was technically _married_. There was no way any wizarding family would accept her into their fold without a marital bond. Considering the_ ridiculously_ conservative times, there was no way most men would want her._ Not that he knew what she wanted, of course_. Perhaps she didn't want anyone either. He felt a twinge of guilt at this. Even if it wasn't his fault, she would not be able to have the dream of a normal life fulfilled because of_ his_ ring on _her_ finger. And for the first time, he wondered what the ordeal had been like for her. Lying entombed in the impenetrable sheet of darkness, he allowed himself a few moments of ponderous emotion. _She too was condemned like him_. And while he had had twenty years to deal with the grief of Lily's passing, she was still young. He had resented her tears and perpetual grieving, they had disturbed him. But now that he was unencumbered by that burden, he could think about them. The only way there was any hope for a better future for her was if he were to die.

_Pray, Miss Granger, that this time your good fortune may prevail. _

_That I may die so you may live. _

* * *

**AN: Alright, so I hope you all liked this chapter. More action and the Halloween ball in the next chapter. **

**Heartfelt thanks to every one who reviewed. You all keep me motivated and happy. **

** , Kate, Atlantean Diva, SunDog, Concrete63, Amar 2 and Snappy. **

**Kate: He could but at present he has no reason to look through her mind. He might in future, though. **

**Amar 2: Yep, the gifted one is Severus. He is really clever, isn't he?**

**Atlantean Diva: I shall PM you from now onwards :)**

**As always, Read and Review...!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Please forgive any grammatical mistakes. I do not have a beta reader. If anyone's interested, please let me know. I do read the chapter thrice before posting but one can't catch every mistake. Let me know of them and I would fix them**

**Ellesemera**

* * *

**Chapter 17**

* * *

**Take a look at my skin,**  
**Look at all the scars...**

* * *

"I have good news." Joseph announced as he slumped into the armchair by the fireplace. "No Transfiguration lesson this afternoon. Snape's on a day off."

His three friends were engaged in their Herbology essay that was due for presentation the next day. This was their empty slot for the day while Joseph had had a class in Divination. Why he studied the ridiculous subject, Hermione couldn't understand. Whenever she asked him, he always gave her roundabout answers along the terms of '_Because it's easy._.' or '_I just like to sleep in class._' Well, everyone was welcome to their choices. It was a free country.

Lucia's face lit up at his words and she heaved a sigh of relief. She hadn't managed to finish her assignment yet and was dreading the upcoming class that afternoon.

"I wonder what he needs a day off for... I mean he's always so uptight about everything, always about propriety and stuff. I doubt he even knows the word leisure." Lucia mumbled under her breath. Her friends, of course, heard her. Paul looked at her intently, deep in thought while Hermione snorted. She was right of course, Snape _never_ had time for leisure. And she was the closest anyone had come to observing his habits. He did nothing other than studying and brooding. She could personally attest to that fact.

But... i_t didn't feel quite right sitting with her friends listening to them concoct humour at his expense_. She shook that thought away from herself.

"Perhaps... he's out with her... you know, Professor Donovan..." Joseph supplied. "There have been quite a lot of rumours that he's courting her or something to that effect. I don't blame him. She's a looker."

_Look at my face, in the lingering dark, _

_The soft reaching tendrils that strangle my heart..._

Hermione's throat constricted a little at this statement. Yes, she had heard the rumours as well.. And she _knew_ they were right. It must be serious if he had taken the day off to be with her. There really was no reason for him to be away at such time as this and that too when the weekend had just concluded. It felt strange, to sit there and wonder about the whereabouts of a man who despised her. The same man to whom she was married. The same man whose child she carried in her womb. The same man who... the room suddenly felt colder. She shivered and hugged herself.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Paul's concerned voice roused her from her morose musings. Lucia and Joseph looked over at her as well.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little cold." She lied. " I'll go to my room then, shall I? I think I need some rest." Then, without waiting for an answer, she got up and left.

Once inside, she retched on the floor. Her stomach clenched and relaxed as the contents of her half digested food were ejected from her system. After about five minutes of incessant vomiting, she stopped and drew away from the filthy floor. She drew out her wand with shaking hands and scourgified the mess as well as herself. The room still smelt a bit. She would have to put up with it till cleaner air from outside her window replaced it. With trembling limbs, she walked to her bed and collapsed into it, drawing sheets up to her chest in the process.

The pregnancy was taxing her strength in unimaginable ways. The morning pains, the shortness of breath, the constant back ache, waves of fatigue and nausea; they all left her feeling fragile and vulnerable. Not to mention faint. She needed to see a doctor. Soon. A while later, she shifted to a seating position in her bed and reached for the book that lay on her side table. The book that Snape had lent her. It smelled of him.

Turning the pages, she stopped at the bookmarked page and began to read. Her hands still shook a little.

Ten minutes later found her sitting at her study table, scribbling furiously with her right hand while her left hand tallied her calculations from the arithmancy book. The eleventh minute found her staring at the parchment. Her lips parted in horror.

I_t couldn't be, could it?_

_She had to see him._

_But he wasn't there. Not in the castle._

_Soon then. As soon as he came back._

* * *

"It's ten minutes past the assigned time, Nestor. Where is the_ bloody man_?" The minister pushed his papers away and laid down his quill. Nestor, the secretary, stood near him without answering. _The situation must be truly precarious if the minister was waiting for possible help from a strange man._ A knock sounded on the door and the minister's attendant entered.

"This arrived at the desk, Sir." he placed a round package wrapped in brown paper on the table and bowed before exiting.

The minister motioned to Nestor who immediately attended to the task. He unwrapped the cheap brown paper and drew out a strange looking square board out. He frowned and cast a charm on it. There was no response.

"No dark magic." He shook his head at the minister. They both stared at the silver square board, puzzled by its appearance in their midst.

A sudden humming noise issued from the centre of the board and they both drew back, staring warily at the silver object. To their great astonishment, the noise changed into one of soft piano music and a hazy image materialised in front of them. It was centred at the square. It was the face of a man. A bald, heavily moustached man with blue eyes.

The man in the image looked at the two astounded men staring at him. It did look rather strange, the wispy image of the head of a man hovering over a silver board.

"_I_ am the man you were supposed to meet today. Surely you did not think me _naive_ enough to come to you personally, _Minister_..."

The minister closed his open mouth and shifted his spectacles on his nose. Nestor's face took a look of deep contemplation.

"I do not believe I have met you before." He spoke gravely. "And this contrivance of yours seems rather shifty, doesn't it? How did you procure it?"

The bald man sneered at the politician's obvious interest.

"It is useful. But I shall not give my _secrets_ away, _Minister_." He raised his eyebrow when the minister's jaw clenched in anger.

"Now look here Mister, I am giving you my precious time. _I_ am the Minister for magic and_ you_ are a nobody in disguise. You better..." The minister began impatiently but was cut short.

"There is no need for these pretensions, _Minister._ There is_ nothing_ you can do here." The man glared at the head of state. "Believe me, I know _everything_. And it would be in your interest to defer to my wishes. Your official position wouldn't last another year without my help. Yes,_ my help_ that, despite my reservations, I offer to _you_." He spoke in a low voice and gazed at the two men impassively.

Rowan Smith, the minister for magic, closed his eyes so that he would remain in control. This man was proving to be quite elusive. Untraceable, he would not know of his location. This silver device itself was remarkable and could be used for military operations. He hadn't expected the man to be so ingenious. His tracer team would be working on the signals of magic to intercept where they came from. But he had expected the man to be personally here. He had a team of Aurors ready to catch the man. But he had been outsmarted. This man was definitely an enigma. His face was a mask that showed nothing. Not a hint of emotion, not a single trace of weakness that he could exploit and use. _No, he would keep quiet and let the man play his game for now. For now._

"Very well. What do you _want?_" He stiffened in his chair as he uttered these words. Clearly, he was unused to being out of control in any situation. The hazy caricature, suspended in mid air over the board gave him a twisted smile, as if he had sensed the minister's thoughts and was humoring him. After a while, he spoke in a rich, silky baritone of voice.

"I believe the question is what you can get out of _me_, situated as you are in this hellish predicament. Now, correct me if I am _wrong_, but here's what your _incapable_ command has lost the country. The English Channel has been crossed, Grindelwald's forces have taken over the coastal south western part including Newport and are making inroads into the country. Your defences have proven to be i_nadequate_ and your forces are losing at a rapid rate. Under their continued assault, London would be conquered by the end of next _July_. There is _nothing_ you would be able to do to avert this _disaster._ Your Auror office has given its answer. Grindelwald's forces are also destroying the towns they conquer as they move forward and you have _kept_ the news of this invasion from the general public. You are _forcing_ the Daily Prophet to keep out any news pertaining to the same. Have I _missed anything_?" He raised his lips in disgust at the two men staring at him in shock.

"N... No." Rowan Smith choked out, finally. _How did this seemingly ordinary man have so much information that he had worked had to keep secret? No, this man was dangerous. If he doubted it before, he did not now_. He swallowed before speaking again. "How do you know this...?"

"Did you _really_ think your methods were _infallible_? Pathetic..." The man's voice hardened as he looked at the two of them once more. "Never mind my methods. I am here to help,_ distasteful_ though it might be. His next target is Taunton, I believe?"

"Why should we trust you with our country's intelligence information. We have no reason to have faith in you."

"You don't. And I shall not give you any. But I_ will_ allow for your hesitation and give you a hint. Use it wisely and you will be able to safeguard the strognhold at Taunton." Nestor shifted the weight from his left foot to the right one.

Smith's fingers held the table with a little more force than was necessary but otherwise he gave no sign that he was interested in the man's conversation. _If he could do what he said... No, he dare not hope._

"In the stronghold of Taunton, there lies an abandoned village called Islemere to the west. A buried shaft under the village centre leads to the underground fighting caves of old. Direct your Aurors to command those caves, they provide excellent aim in the form of magical telescopic shafts. They were used by the ancients in warfare. You will be able to attack without being _seen_. And Grindelwald's forces _will_ make a stop there. He has a predilection for _myth_. You must have anti-apparition wards up there once his forces arrive. Heed my advice and you shall be able to prevail, if only for a bit, for Grindelwald would not attack at any place with all his forces. No, he sends_ less_ than the number necessary for victory. He backs his own men into the corner so that they have a greater incentive to fight. _Their life_. His power is too great for you to be able to conquer him. If you ignore this, your tiny regiment would perish and the enemy would have gained a new territory."

Smith's lips parted in surprise and bafflement. If what this man said was true, then the territory he had given up on as lost could indeed be saved. He had heard of the fabled caves before but like everyone else, he too had dismissed them as mythology. After a minute's pause, he cleared his throat and found his voice.

"How do you know of this...?"

"Tut tut... minister, _again_ you try to encroach upon my _territory_. I will not engage in_ this_ topic of conversation again." He smirked at the two men. "I conclude this session. I will contact you again. Take heed. Follow my words. Oh and _Minister_, your tracers will not be able to_ locate_ me. Do not spend your time in worthless_ pursuit_"

With those last words, the bald man's image flickered for a few seconds before it vanished completely. Five minutes passed. Neither of the men spoke.

"Sir...?" His secretary's rough voice cut through the silent room.

"Send for the Auror office."

* * *

Severus pushed open his office door with a lighter hand than usual. His day had been successful enough. He could not have done anymore or any better for that matter. He set the brown coloured package on his desk and searched through his drawers for the keys to his secret locker. It was not there. He had probably put it in his room. He would fetch it in a moment. He removed his cloak and lit the fire before settling down to rest in his chair. His arms relaxed on the chair's support. He felt better, in good spirits even. _Well, as good as they could get._

His talk with the minister had been enlightening, to say the least. Like others holding the office he had met, he had tried to control the conversation at the outset. But he could not hold his own against Severus's experience and cleverness. No, he had given in. A smart thing to do. He must have worked out that Severus would not negotiate on any terms other than his own. Also, unlike others he had known in the same position, this minister was cleverer and more cautious. He had insight, Severus would give him that, but no imagination. _No, in future, this man would not be a problem to deal with_. His secretary on the other hand, was a different deal and he would keep an eye on him. If this Smith took the steps he had advised, the small victory would be easy. Severus had personally been involved in the attack that had led to the annihilation of a rather large regiment of death eaters at the same site. He had employed the same tactic before. But at that time, he was more of a commander. This time, he had refrained from any unnecessary risks. Now was not the time for haste or failure. He would not put his neck on the line. He still was a Slytherin at heart.

He lifted his quill and drew a stack of fourth year essays towards him. This was his manner of relaxing, marking essays and writing vitriolic comments. But as soon as he had finished correcting an annoying specimen of ridiculousness, he was interrupted by a loud knock. _Who would have the nerve to affront him by knocking so loudly,_ he wondered.

"Come in." He barked.

The door opened to reveal a fidgeting Hermione. He bit back a particularly acerbic address on seeing her and raised his eyebrows at her in question. She entered, after a slight hesitation, but recovered quickly and reached his desk. She held a few parchments in her hand.

"Miss Granger, if you're here to turn in your prematurely finished essays then you must be dumber than I thought. Did I not tell you such visits are unwelcome...?" He shuffled his papers and stacked them to one side.

"I am not." She spoke assertively. He curled his lips and folded his arms as he moved backwards into his chair. When he spoke nothing, she spoke again, with a strange uncertainty in her voice.

"I... I finished the calculations like the book had recommended." She placed the parchments she had been holding on his desk. His lips parted for a second before closing again. She raised her honey coloured eyes to meet his bleak cold ones. Harry had once said they reminded him of endless tunnels. _Without emotion_. She could see why he had drawn that conclusion. She could never read him. He was always the one closed book she would never be allowed to open.

"I see."

"That's it? That's all your'e going to say for the results I have got?" She gripped hard at the arms of her chair at his response. She felt ridiculed at the obvious distress that her finding had caused her. He had put her up to this without telling her anything. And now that she had the results, he wouldn't tell her what his purpose had been. He appeared taken aback at her outburst.

"What do you want me to say, Miss Granger? If your findings are correct, as I assume they are, then the matter is laid bare before you. I can only recommend that you enlighten yourself on every aspect of the subject." He spoke in a final tone that suggested he would not engage in that particular conversation anymore.

Hermione's mouth fell open. _What the hell was wrong with him? Did he really feel nothing? No, that wasn't true, every body back home had known of his love for Lily._ That was partly why they had pitied her as well. Now that they weren't in the middle of a war, he could at least... _Fucking hell,_ she was married to a cold hearted bastard who cared nothing about others. She felt glad that her child would never know its father.

He showed no remorse.

He felt none.

_Nothing._

_Nothing._

"I cannot believe the _ease_ with which you can sit there and be indifferent to the death of two people, one of whom was the greatest wizard alive." She whispered, to whom she did not know, but nevertheless she spoke. It had been quiet for too long.

_She _had been quiet for so long.

"I see no reason to indulge your insulting behaviour anymore, Granger. I know what you think of me. I have work to do. Go away." He reached for and opened his desk drawer.

"No. I _won't_ leave until I have my answers."

_ Again_, she wondered at the source from whence her strength had sprung forth. She had _never_ dared talk back to the man unless she was responding to his vicious comments. _Again_, he appeared surprised at her vehemence but recovered quickly and slid back his blank visage. She looked away from him and stared at the brown package on his desk, wondering at the moment when he would throw her out of his office. But he stayed silent.

"I... I need to know." She pleaded as she held onto her robe for support. She already felt a bit nauseous. _No, she could not vomit all over his desk_. But she would not leave before she had her answers. It was now or never.

"Not here."

He spoke before he stood up briskly and put on his cloak and placed the brown package inside his coat. He then walked over to the other side of the room and ran his hand over the apparently blank wall. A moment later, it turned into a door with a golden knob. He opened it, threw open the door and motioned for her to follow him. She wondered why he hadn't tossed her out of his office and was seemingly leading her to his rooms to answer her questions. He was a strange man. _The stranger who had bedded her for six months._

His rooms were decorated tastefully and did not appear as bleak or mournful as his previous quarters had. She entered the sitting rooms with hesitant steps and stood near the sofa. He went into another room and emerged a minute later. He looked over at her for a few seconds before seating himself in the armchair.

"I will _not_ answer inane questions. So _think_ before you speak." He said as he picked up the book that lay on the side table and skimmed through its pages.

Hermione stared at her feet._ That was civil enough, a direct invitation to ask relevant questions._ Now that she was here, her strength was beginning to wane and she was awfully aware of the peculiar situation. She was in the same room with the man from whom she was trying to keep the secret of _his_ child. She was in the same room with her universally abhorred husband whom she would leave at the end of the school year and never see again. Even though _she_ had taken all the decisions, she now felt like she was at _his mercy._ Her feelings of worthlessness from war returned and she panicked._ Should she flee from the room and take shelter somewhere? Would he notice? _

_No, Hermione, be stronger. Your'e better than this. You have reached so far haven't you?_ She steeled herself once more and spoke slowly but resolutely.

"My equations say that elemental magic controls the basic rules of permanent time travel. If someone, in theory, were to arrive in a time different to their own with no return possible in the near future they would replace another in the said time period. D... Dumbledore died because of us?" Her voice quivered at the old man's name. She still couldn't believe it. If it were true, then she and Snape were the reason the old wizard had died. She looked at him with questioning eyes.

"Yes. But not us. Just _me_. He died so I could replace him." He spoke softly. Hermione looked at him, horrified. He had killed Dumbledore the second time. Without intending to. Again.

"Who... died to replace m...me?" She stepped back from the sofa a bit, as if recoiling from herself in abject horror and pain at whatever name he would utter.

"I do not know. There is a record of a girl who died apparently around the same time as our accident. It is possible that she... was the one. Her name was Josephine."

"What determines the victims...? I... I mean why them and not anyone else?"

"It depends upon the elemental requirement as well as the magical power of the incoming human being. Dumbledore's, unfortunately, matched _mine._" His faced darkened, even in the shadows she could make out the slight shift in his disposition.

"Is there a way, anything, to bring them back...?"

"I _said_ no foolish questions."

"I... You _have_ to tell me, I can't stay in darkness...!" She cried forcefully.

He shut his book and stood up so suddenly that she jumped in surprise and stumbled backwards. He stalked over to her startled form and lifted her to her feet.

"I do not appreciate your infantile _tantrums_, Miss Granger. You would do well to _leave_ now." He muttered to her before pushing her towards the door.

She staggered a little but looked back at him. She felt such an overwhelming whirlwind of emotions ranging from grief to horror and rage that she snapped and in that one moment many things came undone. She pushed his hands away from hers with as much force as she could muster and caught herself from falling. He stood unflinching but she caught a flicker of astonishment cross his ominous black eyes.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you? Do you really have to be so... so _cold_ all the time? I cannot believe you would stand there, refusing to tell me if there is any way to bring back the people we... have unwittingly_ wronged_. What about**_ Dumbledore_**?" She cried out. " Do you really feel _no remorse_ for what you did back home? That you would stand by and watch people die as a result of your_ pathetic existence_!" She hissed at the dark man.

Her mind had become numb. Even so, a rational part of her brain berated her for her outburst. These emotional tantrums had been startling and worrying her for quite some days. She couldn't control them. _But this one had gone too far. The man on the receiving end of her tongue was not known for patience or forgiveness._ _Would he hurt her,_ she wondered.

But he did nothing. He simply stared at her, his jaw clenched and his eyes ominous.

Silence reigned for a few moments.

He moved. Hermione watched in daze.

She felt nauseous.

She couldn't vomit now.

He stalked over to her slightly trembling form and pinned her against the wall. His scowl darkened, his teeth bared and his nostrils flared in the rage that she could sense behind those cruel eyes.

"Yes, Miss _Granger_. There_ is_ a way." He purred in a dangerous tone of voice. She shivered. "A ritual in which you sacrifice _yourself_. Do you wish to partake of it?"

She stood under his macabre scrutiny and her body shook a little. _Would she do it? Hell yeah. And she would do Dumbledore a favour and sacrifice this man in front of her as well. One Dumbledore would be worth ten of this horrible human being._ She had actually believed him to be decent right after the war when he had been hailed as a hero for all his sacrifices. But no, she had seen his true face after living with him for six months. _He was as ugly on the inside as his sloppy exterior was._

But... _she wasn't alone_. She wouldn't be sacrificing just her life. Her hand absently went to her stomach and caressed it. She would be sacrificing her unborn child as well. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. _No. She couldn't do it. Not now_.

She was a coward, after all.

She had no answer.

So she remained silent.

He stood, blocking her escape and towering over her small frame, foreboding and evil, waiting for her to utter a sound. His eyes missed nothing. Every emotion that flickered over her face, the movement of her hands and feet, everything was under his intense scrutiny. She felt him ripping her soul to shreds.

She remained silent.

After about a minute, he drew back and a twisted smile crossed his thin lips. "I did not take you for a coward, Miss Granger. Now leave or you will regret it." He murmured softly before exiting the sitting room.

She walked out with her shoulders hung low and her fists clenched.

She had lost. Again. People were dead.

And dying. And she could do nothing.

She wished she could lock herself into a room and waste away like the people she had replaced. So cold.

_ And dead._

* * *

_The day of the Halloween Ball_

The school was in chaos._ Literally_. Most of the students, well female ones, were running here and there hysterically looking to borrow things they had forgotten or simply couldn't find. Some had misplaced their shoes while others were crying over stolen masks and such things. Hermione had spent the day productively finishing off the last of letters mentioned in her correspondence job. She would be able to get extra work done in no time and would thus be able to pay back Joseph soon enough. She felt better at this. The prospect of not being able to reimburse him had hung like a sword over her head. Now she could relax and enjoy the evening. She smiled a little at her own resourcefulness.

Her smile flickered a little as she pondered over what had transpired a few days ago. Now that she thought back on it, she had behaved rather imprudently. It was a wonder that Snape hadn't reacted much and let the event pass. Her emotions wreaked havoc on her mind nowadays and she truly missed the days when she could reason with a calm head.

She had missed out on the opportunity to clarify many doubts that she remembered now. The crucial questions, the required equations for further experiment, she had missed out on all of them and taunted him for what he was. She had never done that before. She had lacked the courage. And well, it simply seemed _wrong_ to address him that way. He had been her teacher and still taught her.

_What the hell was happening to her?_

Well, pregnancy was what was happening to her. She shook her head and muttered about '_stupid female hormones_' before leaving the library to get ready for the Ball. She still had four hours but she would need to tame her hair. And hide her scars. Stronger glamour charms all over her body. The Ball would start at 8.

**7.00 pm.**

Hermione looked at the simple black dress in her full length mirror. It hugged her figure well enough. It reached down to her knees and had a v-neck decorated with tiny red roses. She could have chosen a costume, a real masquerade dress but she went for this simple outfit. She had liked it in the shop and it was inexpensive.

She straightened a few creases and tied her hair. She had used a hair straightening potion but did not intend to wear her hair up in any elaborate hairstyle. She simply did not feel up to it. She wore little makeup as there was no need for it. They would all be wearing masks to hide their identities.

She smiled at herself. She had covered most of her scars with a long lasting glamour. She usually wore one only to cover the scars on her legs. The rest of her body was inaccessible to general eyes hidden as it was with her large robes and clothes. In fact, most of her legs were covered with the longer skirts in this time period as well.

_The time draws nigh..._

**7.15 pm.**

"Hermione...!" Lucia whined from behind the door of the small toilet stall. "Hurry up. I don't fancy being late."

"What the hell Lucia. Can't you let a girl relieve herself. It's only quarter past seven." She shouted back from the stall. Lucia's groan was the only answer she received. She wondered how long it would be before she would be compelled to use the loo again.

**7.20 pm.**

"Where are the boys, Luce?" Hermione rotated her wand in her hands and produced a few silver sparks. She was standing outside the Gryffindor portrait with Lucia waiting for their dates to arrive. Lucia had refrained from wearing the dress she had bought in Hogsmeade. Instead, she had chosen to wear a golden dress that bore resemblance to some far off queen in wizard tales. It was rather glamorous by that decade's standards, with a low back and side slits that reached up to her thighs. She looked rather pretty with her red hair hanging down her back and a white swan mask covering only the upper half of her face.

Hermione's mask covered her face in its entirety. It was red and plain. Well, with feathers, black ones, on the sides.

"I dunno. They should be here soon. They better be or they will find their dates conspicuously missing." She raised her chin in a regal fashion.

"Say Hermione, why did you buy such a plain dress...? You would look so much better with a little tweaking..."

"I like it this way."

"Hmm... but wait... Give me your wand for a moment..." Lucia tugged at her wand. Hermione let go of it reluctantly. Lucia waved her own wand at Hermione's dress. It shortened to above knee, black wings sprouted from its back and the neckline had widened and lowered to reveal a considerable portion of her now growing bosom. Hermione jumped a little and looked at herself.

"Very funny, Lucia. Now change it _back_."

"No."

"What do you mean_ no_? I cannot go to the Ball looking like..._ this_." She waved her hands at the outfit.

"Sure you can. It looks very attractive and most of the girls would be wearing clothes like these. You'll get loads of offers for dances."

"Lucia. Give me my wand. _Now_!"

Hermione lunged at the girl's hands but Lucia was too quick. She jumped out of the way and ran to the other end of the corridor.

"Luce! Come back. I _need_ my wand back..!"

Hermione tried to run but found that she couldn't run as fast as her with the heels she wore. They weren't too high but still inhibited very quick movement. Lucia had already reached the end of the corridor by now. _Fucking hell, what had come over her?_ She took off her shoes hurriedly and ran after her mischievous friend. Her mask had fallen off in the process.

_The clouds shifted and covered the moon , effectively blocking the shimmering light._

**7.25 pm.**

"Fucking hell, Lucia. Come back!" Hermione had begun to pant by now as she turned yet another corner. Lucia was really fast. And in her current state Hermione could not outrun her.

"Come and get it..." Lucia teased her from the other end. "You look nice in that dress, promise you won't change it and I will return your wand." She called out before taking off again.

Hermione reached the end of yet another corridor and turned only to collide into something solid and huge. _And black._

_Roses shrivelled. _

**7.26 pm **

She fell on her back and groaned before looking up to see whom she had run into. _Severus Snape._

"I...I'm sorry, Professor. I wasn't looking..." She mumbled as she got up and shrugged the dust off her dress. She noticed that he stood in his usual attire and a dark aura about him. Also, on his arm, hung the eternally promiscuous Isadora Donovan. Her eyes had a glazed look in them and Hermione wondered what he had done to make her seen so enamoured and well... _drunk_. She shook these thoughts out of her head.

"I wouldn't expect you to. 20 points from Gryffindor,_ Miss Granger_." He spoke and curled his lips in disgust as he surveyed her appearance. Hermione felt rather self conscious , standing there before him in the _ridiculously_ revealing dress that she would never wear in a hundred years, as he looked at her dress in obvious distaste and reprimand. Hermione cringed a bit but reminded herself that she had done nothing wrong. _He could think as badly as he wanted of her, he wasn't going to make her feel ashamed about this._

"Good night, Professor." She spoke clearly and raised her chin in the air before walking past him. Lucia had vanished. _Bugger._ This was _not_ the time to show her playful side. She groaned and walked barefoot on the stone floor, slowly now that she had lost sight of her friend and her back ached a little from the fall.

_Will I see you again?_

**7.40 pm.**

"When I find that girl, I _swear_ I will hex her. Friend or no." Hermione muttered to herself as she reached the Gryffindor portrait. She couldn't find Lucia. Her shoes and the mask that she had taken off were nowhere to be found.

"Turnip." She spoke the password distractedly and waited for the door to open. It did not.

"Why aren't you opening?" She demanded. The fat lady eyed her in annoyance.

"The doorway is sealed." She replied.

"Sealed? Why?"

"Merlin, girl. I don't know. The Headmaster ordered it."

"What about the ones inside?" Hermione frowned. This was very strange. _Why the hell would Headmaster do that?_

"It is only for tonight." Hermione turned away from the door. There was something strange about this. Why would they seal the doors? There was no rational reason. _The Headmaster..._

She shook her head. She was barefoot and the corridor was cold. She needed to go find someplace warm. She needed to find her friends.

_Sometimes, I wish I could read the signs..._

**7.50 pm.**

She ended up going to the Great Hall. It was the only sanctuary she found with some warmth. The rectangular room had been divided into two parts. One half held a huge dancing floor while the other half held refreshments and chairs. The decorations were simply..._ marvelous_. Whoever had worked on them had clearly employed much thought and effort on their part. The Hall, under the overcast black sky exemplified the term eerily beautiful in the most appropriate manner. The band had arrived. They seemed to be a group of six warlocks under huge robes that doubled their sizes and made them look like overgrown... _well something_.

The decorations were simply surreal. Bleeding roses, darkened fairies, black tendrils emanating from dark green plants, huge pumpkins cut into ghostly faces and candles with dark grey flames all graced the walls and floors of the hall. The seating area itself was richly carpeted in dark purple velvet. It looked beautiful.

And yet something seemed off. _Something. Something._

"Ouch...!" She hissed as something pricked her foot. A thorn from one of the bleeding roses. _How had it ended there?_ She would have to be really careful.

The students had begun to arrive but she couldn't see her friends. The teachers already stood at the platform. It was decorated in the same purple velveteen carpet.

"Where's your partner, Miss Granger?" A low rumbling voice enquired of her. She turned to face her Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Mr. Thompson.

"Um... He should be here, Sir."

"Yes, he should. We cannot have a lady running around unescorted now, can we?" He chuckled and stared at her chest.

"No _Sir_. Joseph should be here presently." She pressed her lips and turned away from the disgusting man. Seriously, she needed to find them and fix her dress. It wasn't even that revealing. Her breasts had grown a little but nothing too noticeable. The man was surely a blot on the Professors at Hogwarts. _How dare he look at her that way!_

_The fortunes are changing. I feel a subtle transformation in the air itself._

**7.55 pm.**

"Oh Joseph, Joseph. Where _are_ you?" She muttered frantically. She had nowhere to go. The portrait was sealed. The library was shut on that day. The rest of the castle was too cold and she simply couldn't find her_ bloody date_.

_Where was he?_ He wasn't the type to run out on his friends. _He was her friend, wasn't he?_

She had stepped on three more bloody bleeding roses by now. She cursed under her breath. All the students had arrived by now. She would not be allowed to stay without a date. She wove her way through the students who had gathered there and looked for her friends. She couldn't find them. It was also possible that she had missed them surrounded as she was by people in bizarre outfits and masked faces.

She felt lost.

_Darkness begins to engulf me and I do nothing._

**8.00 pm.**

The lights went out and a bluish sheen surrounded in the Hall.

The shadows amassed.

All around her was darkness.

And masks.

Masks.

Masks.

She was afraid.

She looked at the head table. The teachers were still standing. The Headmaster seemed to be announcing something.

She couldn't hear him.

She couldn't hear.

_Why was she feeling this way? _

She needed to see a_ familiar face._ She _needed_ someone.

She scanned the line of smiling Professors and her eyes landed on Professor Snape. His arm was still entwined around Donovan's. She looked away.

The music began to play.

"Ehmm... Miss Granger, I am afraid if you don't have a date..." A boyish voice reached her ears. _Who was he? A prefect?_

"She's with me." Hermione looked up to face a taller boy with an eagle shaped mask on his face. He was dressed in black and blue robes. She couldn't recognise his voice, muffled as it was when it came from behind the mask.

"I... I don't..." She began but the boy cut across.

"I too am without a date. I see you are in distress. Surely you would allow me the honour of a dance." He intoned and offered her his hand. Hermione hesitated but then placed her smaller hand in his.

_Tell the ones I loved I never will forget..._

* * *

**_AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. You guys keep me motivated._**

**_Snappy, Kate, Amar 2, SunDog, Atlantean Diva and Concrete63. You guys are simply awesome :) :)_**

Let me know what you thought of this chapter. I wasn't very sure of it at the outset. I will describe the Ball in the next chapter. Let me know if you liked it.

Review :) :)


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: Alright, so I finished this early and hence I decided to post it. On a serious note, I need you to tell me if it is good enough and you like the direction that the story takes from this point. I could change it. I am not so sure about this particular plot twist. Please let me know. I am in a dilemma. **

* * *

**Chapter 18**

* * *

**Disaster is a simple word. It does not, in any measure, recall the horrors of my nights.**

**Disaster is a mere word. **

* * *

_Like, anyone would be,_

_I am flattered by your fascination with me..._

"You look lovely." The muffled male voice whispered in her ear.

Hermione nodded and looked over his shoulder at the crowd. She couldn't recognise anyone anymore. They all looked eerie and phantom like, covered by the bluish sheen that irradiated from God knew where and caressed their forms. They all danced to a slow waltz piece composed by Brahms. They all moved together swaying in the darkened atmosphere.

It felt different. Like she moved in a dream.

A strange reprieve from the deadened yesterdays.

_Like, any hot blooded woman,_

_I have simply wanted an object to crave..._

Her partner, whose name she hadn't enquired about yet, held her gently but firmly. He was an accomplished dancer. His slow and elegant movements mesmerised her. The way he held her hand, the soft caress that he laid on her bare arm and the manner in which he gently pulled her to himself evoked strange reactions in her body. Her stomach fluttered. Her lips parted and sighed. She felt calm and... protected. Her misgivings from fifteen minutes ago had subsided as she danced with this mysterious boy. A warm sensation encompassed her belly that had nothing to do with the child she was carrying.

_She was pregnant. And married._ Somewhere at the back of her mind she was aware of a mellowed sense of guilt but it was quickly repressed under the haze of darkness and warmth emanating from another body. Somewhere, somehow it filled her centre with a warming balm.

_But you.._.

The song altered, it was faster this time with quick beats that she would not be able to keep up with. She felt a little disappointed at that. She would have to let this stranger pair up with someone else who could dance to the faster beats. She made to draw away but he did not relinquish his hold. She looked up at him in puzzlement. Although he could see every nuanced expression that crossed her features, she could not fathom his thoughts. His face was covered and his body language was perfectly gentlemanly. He could be an angel in disguise. Or Lucifer...

_You're not allowed..._

"I... can't dance to this beat. It is too quick for me to follow and I would get my feet squashed." She pointed at her bare feet in explanation. He stilled, holding her hand in his, and trailed his thumb over her fingers in soothing motion.

_Your'e uninvited..._

"I see. Let's go that way." Saying thus, he drew her in opposite direction. She wouldn't be able to dance to this song. But she did not protest as the tall boy parted the crowd effortlessly so that she could follow him. They reached a corner of the dancing floor that was less crowded.

He stopped on reaching a spot and turned to face her. "Is this better?"

"I...I'm not..." Hermione looked around her. People were too engrossed in themselves to pay any attention to them. Before she could finish, he reached out his hand and pressed her smaller fingers. Subtle warmth spread through her hand. She did not finish the sentence.

_Like, an uncharted territory,_

_I must seem greatly intriguing..._

He drew her close to him, closer than he had the last time, but Hermione did not refrain or draw away. It felt nice to be... admired and wanted for once. And she was here to enjoy the night. Blow off some steam, as they say...

But she was curiously aware of herself and his musky scent that reached her nostrils. What was happening to her? She had never felt... attracted like that to anyone before. Was she even attracted? Hell she didn't even know his name. And the darkness shrouded almost everything around her, including him. She could only feel what he conveyed through his simple touches and mild caresses.

_But it felt nice. Nice. Nice. Sweet. Nice._

_Was it wrong to savor the closeness of another? She had been without it for so long... So long..._

But she was bound to someone else._ For life._

"Place your feet over mine." He murmured in her hair. Hermione drew back slightly in puzzlement. Had she heard that right?

"Your feet would get... squashed, as you say it..." There was a smile behind his voice. Hermione hesitated. He was a total stranger. She couldn't do that. It would be weird. And she did not know him. She remained in her position and yelped a little as he lifted her gently and placed her feet over his.

To say that Hermione was shocked would be an understatement. She wondered if she should admonish him for being so forward but frowned. He hadn't done anything wrong. He had simply looked for her comfort. She bit her lip as he moved slowly, his one hand firmly clasping her waist and the other running soothing circles in her palm. Her own hands were resting on his chest, something she hadn't noticed before. She decided to let it pass and enjoyed the sensation that this closeness to another human being brought. It felt... divine.

"What's your name?" She mumbled after a while as the song changed into a soft melody once more.

_You're uninvited..._

"Let me see... Phantom of the Opera?" He spoke amusedly. Hermione chuckled at his witty remark.

"I bet you don't have scars on your face..." She teased him. Seriously, this boy was making her feel jittery and aroused. _Was it the pregnancy hormones?_ Could be, she had never had her body betray her in such fashion. The responses that his soft voice, his heavy breath and lingering touch produced were akin to something she had never felt before. Not even with Ron...

_Ron..._

_Was she betraying him?_

She stiffened in his arms as that thought crossed her head. The stranger noticed her discomfort and drew her closer. She hesitated but gave in and sighed in his chest. She couldn't think anymore. She was wading through the realm of senses that she had believed she did not possess.

"Why aren't you wearing any shoes..." His voice reached her fuzzed mind after a while.

"Lucia, my friend... She..." Hermione frowned once more. "I can't find her..."

"It is a _masquerade_ ball... I doubt you would recognise most people here..."

"No, it was before the ball. She ran off... with my shoes and my...wand." Hermione scowled at that. She felt so helpless and crippled without her wand. "I can't find any of them. My friends, that is. And then I went to the tower and the stupid portrait said that the gateways had been sealed. So, to avoid the cold, I ended up _here_..." Hermione was surprised at her own willingness to talk and reveal so much to a stranger.

"You can't find your friends?"

Hermione shook her head.

"And the entrance was sealed, you say..." Again, Hermione nodded. The boy stiffened and stopped moving. Hermione looked at him, confusedly, as he stood painfully still and glanced at the crowd. He held on to her hand, though.

Dread crept upon her as he tugged at her hand and led her away from the crowd towards the door. She could feel the chill seep through her bare hands and feet.

"Where are you going...?" She asked but the boy did not answer as he moved through the masses of students drunk on youth and spirits. She was suspicious now. _Why was this seemingly charming boy leading her out of the party? No, she wouldn't go._ She snatched her hand out of his grip and stepped away from him. He halted in his steps and his eagle mask faced her. Her heart feels heavy, like a tonne of bricks had been placed on it.

**Tick tock. The clock ticks. The moments roll by.**

"Come along, Hermione. There isn't _time_...!" He muttered and made to reach for her hand but she pushed him away and ran towards the crowd. He cursed and ran after her, winding his way through the crowd covered in blue sheen. Hermione was gasping for breath as she ran away from her pursurer. She stumbled as her foot grazed against a chair and she crashed into another person.

**And darkness creeps in...**

"What the..." The boy she had crashed into yelled as he staggered and fell to the floor with her. Hermione hissed in pain. Her palm had landed on one of the thorns of bleeding roses. _Fucking roses._

"S...Sorry. I was..." She got up hurriedly and made to cut her way across the lined up chairs but was stopped by a firm grasp on her wrist. She looked into the eagle mask.

"_Let go of me!_" She hissed and made to push the boy away but he did not flinch and pulled her towards him. She looked around in distress. Surely, someone must have noticed it. But they were all lost. All of them in the drugged environment of hormones and sensuousness. The boy's grip was now tighter and Hermione punched his stomach in an effort to get away.

Shadows, creeping shadows cover my heart...

"_Fucking hell, Hermione!_ I'm trying to help you." He bent and gasped but did not let go of her hand. "We need to get out. _Now_!"

"NO!" Hermione shouted and struggled against him once more. She wasn't reasoning anymore. She gasps loudly once more and curses. She couldn't believe that she was in this situation again. And where were those teachers when you needed them? She pushed at him once more as he dragged her towards the door. Why was no one noticing this? She looked around her. The crowd swayed in trance like state. As if... as if they had been drugged and could not feel anything beside pleasure. The boy pulled at her hand once more but stopped. She noticed him go still and turned to see what he looked at.

**A buried past, an echoing life follows me behind...**

The horror of a Halloween night had descended.

Only, it was too real.

The dim bluish light had faded.

The entire hall was covered in darkness.

The only thing she could feel was the strong grip of a stranger on her hand.

The darkness crept like a slow poison into her veins. She held onto the strange hand as the clouds above parted to reveal a bleak moon.

The Hall was still inundated with dark figures. But they weren't students.

A loud shriek pierced the space. A lightening bolt crashed into the middle of the hall.

Hermione stood frozen, rooted to the ground beneath her feet.

Someone was attacking Hogwarts. The castle that had been _impenetrable._

A hand tugged at her urgently and she was led away from the loud screams that surrounded her now. So loud. So bitter. Such agony.

"Quick! Run, Hermione!" The boy, the stranger shouted and dragged her towards the door. It lay only a few paces away from where they stood. Cold horror trickled down her throat. She ignored the hex that sliced her exposed her knee and ran towards the door. The boy in front of her still held onto her hand as they stumbled through the falling masses and reached the door. It was closed. With a Slytherin clasp. The visage of an ugly snake protruded from the middle. The boy let out a muffled hiss as his back was lashed with a curse. They could not get out.

They were trapped.

She had no wand. _NO wand. No escape._

_No spell._

He reached for a pale wand and cast shield spell blocking any curses being flung their way. The shield would give out in a few seconds.

She ducked as a jet of green light flashed and missed her by inches. The strange eagle masked boy let out a curse under his breath and tore away his mask.

It seemed the horrors of the night were only just beginning.

A sudden flash of lightening revealed his handsome face.

_Tom. Riddle._

_NO wand. Screams. Wails.. Screams. NO wand..._

Hermione's hand went limp.

Riddle hissed something. The door flew open.

Hermione screamed as another curse ripped at her collar bone her with force and she landed on all fours.

"Get up! Get up, Hermione..."

Tom grabbed her upper arm and led her out of the door. The bloodcurdling screams hounded her as she was hauled by Riddle through empty corridors. They made turns upon turns. Hermione followed up blindly, her ears ringing and her body bloodied. Her legs carried on of their own accord. They had reached the front door by now and Tom pushed it open with a swish of his wand. A sharp gust of wind assaulted her cheek and she gasped. Her knees gave out as they floundered down the stone steps. The boy beside her stooped as well and slumped against a pillar. The pain in her body seemed to spread out like vines do when they find an adequate support.

"Prof... Get Professor Snape... I need to... need to find him..." Hermione breathed out as she covered her torso with her arms in agony. She was still bleeding. She sat shivering uncontrollably on the cold ground. " He'll help... I need to.. I.."

Just then, an earsplitting blast was heard that shook the very ground beneath their feet and the tower on the left end of the castle which swayed and collapsed. The splinters flew in wild trajectories and a few of them pierced Hermione's bare arms. Riddle stared open mouthed at the scene but recovered quickly. He got up with great effort and lifted Hermione to her feet. She struggled against his hold and pushed at him.

"Stop it, Hermione. We have to _leave!_" He shook her forcefully. She looked at the flames that lashed the lower stories of the tower and looked around frantically.

"They are dying! People... students... No... We should go... _We have to help!_" She cried out hysterically and made to move towards the castle. Riddle stopped her. Sharp thorns of realisation pricked her body.

"There isn't _anything_ you can do Hermione! We need to move..." He shouted back at her.

"No. NO! _Find him_.. I need to help... Professor Snape... He'll come... He'll come..." She cried in agony as Riddle dragged her away from the castle. They couldn't run anymore. The swift rush of adrenaline had seen them out of the castle but they were both injured and bleeding. They moved at a slower pace. She had stopped struggling against him. He was in as much pain as she was and was making an effort to get out of there. Where they would end up, she did not know.

She let out a shriek as a slicing hex lashed at her ankle. She tripped and fell in agony. _Would she even survive this hellish night?_ Riddle's hand had left hers but she could feel him standing near her. She placed her palms on the ground and pushed herself up. Riddle supported her as she raised herself to look at the person who had attacked her.

It was Paul.

Paul. A friend. Not a friend. Paul.

The world felt wrong.

Her eyes were deceiving her.

"Hand her over and you may go, Riddle." He held his wand pointed at them and looked at her torn dress and bleeding ankle. A subtle smile crossed his features.

She couldn't believe it. No, it couldn't be. It had to be a trap.

Riddle was the villain.

_Paul was a friend._

A friend.

A friend.

"Paul..." She whispered.

Paul closed his eyes and hatred crossed his face. When he opened them again, they flashed in disgust and... loathing? Paul? Her friend...

"Do _not_ speak to me, Hermione." He murmered softly to the freezing air. Her name sounded tainted as it emerged from his lips. Hermione recoiled in horror.

A friend. A friend. Her heart screamed.

Riddle simply stood facing the boy with a blank mask on his face.

"You contrived this."

A smirk crossed Paul's face. He tilted his neck.

"The idea was mine..." He spoke calmly. "But I do not wish to waste time discussing my varied arts, hand her over."

Hermione's fists clenched in her hands.

"Where are Joseph and Lucia?" She bit out. The boy in question raised an imperfect eyebrow.

"You need not concern yourself with them. Come quietly and your death will be... _easy_."

Tom stiffened beside her and she could feel a shift in his magical aura. She was close enough to him to feel the beginnings of what promised to be a dark storm if he did not control it.

"You will be sorry if you harmed them." She spat at him. "_I will kill you_, do you hear me, Paul! I will kill you!" She screamed in rage at the boy who stood unfazed at her lack of self control.

"Without a _wand_, Hermione? I thought you were smarter..." He mocked her. "But then again, mudbloods aren't exactly known for their cleverness..." She made to throw heself at him but Tom's warning grip on her arm stopped her.

"Why,_ Paul_?" Tom's eyes glinted but apart from that there was no trace if emotion on his face. The air shifted around them. Riddle's wand lay in his hands. It was pointing at the ground. Paul's eyes travelled from his wand to his face but he diregarded the warning glint.

"I have my reasons, Riddle. Do not make the mistake of attacking me. They are coming. They will kill you both...'' He laughed maniacally at the pair of them and shifted his weight "But if you leave her, you may go.."

Hermione looked at the pair of them. One was her betrayer and one her mortal enemy. She had to get away from both of them. When they were distracted, she would run. She could not think right now. She needed to find Snape. He would help. She knew he would. He would help.

She had no weapon other than her bruised and slashed limbs...

_He would help._

"Really,_ Paul_. Do you honestly believe you could take_ me_...?" Riddle fingered his slender pale wand. Hermione saw a flash of red flicker in his eyes. She gulped and stepped away from him.

Suddenly, without warning, Paul slashed his wand and sent a jet of green towards Tom. Tom snarled and ducked. He still hadn't raised his wand. Dark clouds of magical energy gathered around him as he contemplated his adversary in amusement. He smiled politely but it did not reach his eyes.

Hermione did not have her wand. She couldn't fight. She couldn't help. She wouldn't know _whom_ to help.

She took one look at the castle. The muted screams still rang through the night. She felt bile rise in her throat.

It felt too much like the war back home.

The cogs in her mind had stopped functioning. She could feel the air assault her lungs.

She had to get out.

She had to get away.

She drew all her strength and ran away from the two boys. Her progress was slow but she managed to put up some distance between her and them. She had reached the edge of the grounds. She tripped and stumbled through her way as she reached the edge of the grounds. Then suddenly, without warning, her foot caught a large rock that lay hidden under the grass cover and she fell.

Her strength gave out. Tears fell down.

She rubbed her hidden wedding ring frantically. He would come. She knew he would come. He would come. He would come.

_He had to come._

_He wouldn't let them all die._

_He would come.._

_How strange that in her anguished state she put her faith in the man whom she had reviled for his self serving ways only a while back._

_How curious that she trusted him._

* * *

Tom heard a slight movement by his side followed by hurried footsteps. Hermione was running away. He sighed. She would not get far. Not with the injuries she had. But he had to concentrate on his... _prey_ now.

Paul, too, had noticed Hermione's movement by now and he sent a stunner after her but Tom blocked it without whispering a single word. _Not a word._

Paul looked back at the boy in surprise. Riddle smirked at him and raised his wand for the first time. Paul panicked and sent a curse at him which failed to reach Tom and was deflected mid way. A look of shock and fear crossed Paul's features. Tom stood silently, watching the boy step back as he realised his own foolhardiness. Much as he would like to torture the moron, he was short of time. He needed to heal his wounds and find Hermione. And the boy's compatriots would be arriving soon.

_"Venenum carnis...!''_

His silently whispered curse pierced the boy's feebly erected shield and struck him in throat. He let out a muffled scream and fell backwards, clutching at his throat and face as poison seeped through his flesh. Tom watched unamused and stepped over to the boy.

"Pity, I could have done _so_ much more... But this will have to do..." He whispered softly into the boy's ears. "But you won't die before the hour is through... This poison will contaminate your flesh. It would... rot. Unless your master kills you first... I wonder why he attacked Hogwarts so early... He derails my plans but only just..." He spoke in a conversational tone. He sliced the boy's arm and collected the blood that trickled from the wound. The flesh was poisoned but the blood was still pure. He needed Gryffindor blood for his flame. He wouldn't have unlimited supply anymore.

A sound of heavy footsteps roused him and he looked back to see five heavily cloaked men running towards him. He placed the vial of fresh blood inside his robes and ignored the painful moans of the boy beside him as he got up. The men had sighted him. _This was getting ridiculous._ Lord Voldemort was deeply annoyed now. His carefully laid plans were in jeopardy albeit with one single improvement.

_"Scutum Intensa..!"_

His deep voice whispered and a bluish shield was erected between him and those men. They would not be able to take it down for five minutes. It was enough.

He ran in the direction that Hermione had taken. He was aware of the stabbing pain in his back. He needed to heal himself quickly. His grey eyes scanned the ground ahead for her but could not find her. He kept running. At the edge of the grounds he espied a fallen figure. It was Hermione. She was rubbing something on her finger as she cried desperately. On hearing his footfalls, she turned her head and blanched in surprise. He grabbed her hand and raised her to her feet. She was hurt badly, far worse than he was.

_Far, far worse._

"Let's get out of here." He led her out of the grounds to the road that went to Hogsmeade and looked around. "They are coming."

She raised fearful eyes towards him but nodded. They were out of the boundaries. They could apparate. He drew her close to his chest and concentrated on his destination. With a resounding pop, they both vanished.

* * *

Severus followed Isadora at a discreet distance as they moved through the night to a bar in Knockturn Alley. Carl was supposed to be waiting for her there. He had fixed her with a contrivance of his own that would let him hear every word that passed on between her and Carl. Getting out of the castle had been easy enough. The thronging crowds swallowed in darkness hadn't noticed them leave. _Not a single person had._ They passed the deserted road that led to the more frequented areas of the bar. The darkness of the night engulfed Severus adequately. He relished in its obvious ability to conceal him. Most people feared the dark but not he. _He welcomed it._

As he followed Isadora, other thoughts crept into his mind. Hermione had run into him today. He only hoped that her improper dress would not attract trouble._ What she was doing running around the corridors in that sort of dress, he could only guess_. He scrunched his nose in displeasure at _that_ memory. He had seen her in the Great Hall. She had been without an escort. He had also seen Professor Thompson giving her hungry looks. He wasn't surprised. Her dress was too revealing and definitely improper for the occasion even though he had chastised the Professor properly for eyeing a young student. What she had hoped to achieve by wearing it, he couldn't say. She was getting stranger day by day. She had put on a bit of weight as well. And a few days ago she had really surprised him with her fierce outbursts. He had seen the shadow of her former self then. He shook his head. _What was he doing thinking about her of all the people? He must be getting senile if he was wondering about her weight and confidence issues._ He shouldn't be distracting himself. He had a mission to accomplish.

They had reached the bar by now. Severus covered his face with the hood of his cloak an sat on a corner table while Isadora went to greet a sandy haired man sitting near the door. So this was Carl... Severus looked at the pair intently and concentrated on the connection between him and Isadora. Carl was speaking in hushed tones but Severus could hear him clearly enough.

"What news do you have, Dora?" The man reached for her hand and clasped it in his. Severus snorted at his obvious infatuation.

"Not much Carl, the Professor's quite enamoured with my charms..." She threw her head back a bit and laughed gently, repeating to Carl the story he had ordered her to. "I am keeping an eye on him, of course..." Carl nodded.

At this exact moment, Severus's ring finger pricked. He gritted his teeth at the pain. _Damn. What had the stupid girl done now? But then... it could be a false alarm._ He had felt his ring burn plenty of times in the last few weeks even though the girl was in no real danger. Could the ring be malfunctioning? It could be. It was possible. _No, he couldn't miss this conversation to go chasing after some teenage girl's false alarms._ This was too important. And so, he ignored the incessant pricking of his ring and the reddening of his flesh around his finger and listened to the conversation of the two people sitting in the bar.

"What about the girl?" Carl enquired quietly.

"What about her?"

"Did you find where her son is?"

Severus's ears perked up at this. _A son? Who were they speaking about? Isadora had not mentioned this to him. How... what were they talking about?_

**Do you hear my whispers, my agonised whispers...**

"No. She doesn't _have_ one, Carl." Isadora insisted. Carl frowned at her response.

"But the master said...Never mind. Dora, I... I am not supposed to tell you this but..." He rubbed the dusty glass between his fingers. Isadora leaned forward.

"Who is the master, Carl?" She asked, just like he had commanded her to. Carl shook his head.

"More than my life's worth is to tell you that, Dora. You know I can't..."

Isadora drew back in her chair and observed the man silently.

"Just... stay with me tonight, alright? I don't want you to go back..." Carl drew her painted hand towards him and pleaded.

_Ask him where he wants to take you... Go with him. Fuck him if you have to. I need the information._ Severus's silky voice conveyed his command to her mind.

"Where would we go...?" Isadora pouted at Carl who took her question as a gesture of assent and took her hand in his.

"My room. Upstairs" He spoke in a lust filled voice. Severus groaned. The things he had to do for the sake of others._ And Lily. Lily._ His ring finger pricked him again, sharply.

The couple went through the side door. Severus threw a few knuts on the table and followed them, casting a surreptitious disillusionment charm over himself as he entered the musty corridor lined with grotesquely decorated walls and damp carpet. A string of identical doors lined both the walls. Carl led Isadora to the last door on the left. He would have to wait in the corridor till they had... well fucked enough for Carl to loosen his tongue. He did not want to force the man. It was one thing to control Donovan, she was not high enough in the hierarchy of people that had hired her but this Carl seemed to have direct access to very important information. The lesser the enemy knew about him, the better it was. And one of the ways was to gather information without altering the dynamics of the system he gathered information about. He would have to wait outside and listen to them. He did not look forward to that portion.

_Oh, the things I do for love... For you, Lily, he intoned in his mind._ His ring finger pricked again. He was quite sure now that it was faulty. He would need to get it seen to. It was bloody uncomfortable.

Twenty minutes later, after listening to the horrifying noises of love making in the room, Donovan's voice reached his consciousness. She seemed breathless and spoke in broken sentences. Severus grimaced at the thought. He _really_ did not want to be here.

"Dora... you must find out about the girl..." Carl's husky voice reached Severus's ears. "Her son. It was insisted."

Again, the man was talking about things Severus did not know. Ask him who he is speaking about, Severus commanded Donovan.

"Who are you talking about, Carl...?"

"What, have you already forgotten? We just spoke about it Dora, downstairs... Hermione Granger, of course..." Carl's breathless voice reached Severus's ears.

His lips parted in surprise. _Hermione? She did not have a son. He would know about that. She was married to him. But then, why was the man insisting on Dora finding about it?_ Something did not add up here. Something was definitely wrong.

"You know there was another reason I asked you to stay here.." Carl's sugary sweet voice jarred his ears. "I was afraid you would get hurt... I needed you away from Hogwarts for the night..."

Severus's heart stopped for a moment. _Danger? This had gone too far, he would have to risk it._ He _needed_ answers right now. With that thought in mind, he drew out his wand and cast a strong double layered silencing spell on the room and unlocked the door. The sight that met him was not one that he had anticipated. The room was damp and shabby. But instead of the two people he had expected to find on the bed his gaze met six figures. They were heavily cloaked in black and had their wands drawn at him. Severus's jaw tightened. He had been trapped.

"Welcome, Severus Snape..." A bearded man who stood by the window tilted his head in mock courtesy. His accent was... different. Severus felt the door close behind him. He had known it was open but to run now would have been folly. His wand was still in his hand. He looked out of the corner of his eyes and calculated his enemies' positions. Six of them. One stood by the window, two others by the bed post. Donovan and Carl sat by the bedside sofa and the last two stood near the lamp shade. He was the one trying to cover him from back without being seen. He looked at their identical cloaks, his trained eyes observing everything and missing nothing. Black cloaks with a single engraving on their fastenings. An eye in a triangle. He gripped hard at his wand.

"Ah, you are surprised..." The bearded man spoke again. "Did you really believe that we would not recognise that one our numbers had been... Imperiused?"

Severus gritted his teeth but remained silent. Time trickled by. _Had the Donovan woman been playing him?_ But then, he shouldn't have been able to connect to her through the consciousness bond of the Imperius curse._ Fucking hell, he was short of time and it did not look like he would be able to leave quickly enough._ He observed everything quietly. His mask was in place.

"Oh, don't worry... Our lovely Isadora is still imperiused... We did not wish to run the risk of you getting suspicious by letting her free, of course. She was an honest ploy to get you into our clutches... You have proved quite... slippery"

If the Donovan woman hadn't ratted him out then it could only mean one thing... _There was another spy at Hogwarts_. He cursed himself for this lack of foresight. If there was another spy, then they had been working uninhibited all this time. The school was in danger. _Hermione._.. His fists curled of their own accord. His wand was still raised warily as he waited for the slightest movement from these men.

"But before we do the honours of, ah, terminating you... We have a few questions..." The bearded man leaned on his cane stick and drew circles on the moldy carpet. "Where is your son?"

Severus was startled for a moment. _He did not have a son. Hermione did not have a son. What the hell were these men blabbering about? Were they somehow... unhinged?_ No, it did not look like they were. His dark eyes glanced over at each of them. He should stall for time. He looked around in detached interest.

"You are _mistaken._" He drawled at the bearded man in contempt. "I do not have a_ son._"

The man looked at his comrade who stood by the lamp. They both frowned. Carl laughed.

"That's what Dora kept saying. Maybe he has hidden him. Maybe we should release her and then enquire..."

The red haired man who stood near Dora nodded and cast a spell on her. The glazed look in her eyes vanished as she awoke from weeks long captivity in her own mind. She grabbed her head and groaned. Her eyes became bloodshot and she covered her face with her hands.

"Dora, we need to know... About the girl... her son..." Carl caressed her cheek gently and implored her to speak.

"No." She shook her head. "I told the truth. She doesn't have a son."

"Dora, there must be something... you must have missed it...I... tell them..."

"Miss Donovan, I must impress upon you the gravity of this matter." The man who sat near her spoke. "If there is anything that you might remember, let us know. It is urgent. We do not wish to resort to alternate methods of_ torture._.." His voice had an edge of steel in it. Severus watched intently as the man threatened his own partner in crime. Donovan's eyes widened slightly as she took in his meaning and shifted closer to Carl.

"I... I really don't know..." Her voice quivered as she spoke. The man raised his wand at her. "W... Wait... I am sure she doesn't have a son... But lately, she's been gaining weight... She... I've been observing her, she seems tired... Maybe... she hasn't given birth to her son yet."

Severus's breath stopped for a moment. He blinked. _No, it couldn't be... Hermione couldn't, could she? She would tell him... She wouldn't hide something like this from him._ He never made a mistake with potions._ How could it be possible? And how the fucking hell did these men know of it? If it were true... No, it couldn't be._ These men were either deluded or they were trying to trick him. A faint twitch by in his temple was the only sign of discomfort visible on his being as he stood there.

"Yes, that could be true..." The redhaired man murmured softly. "How unfortunate that you would play the game of words with us and try to spare your wife and child, Professor. We know everything about you..."

Severus maintained the cold mask on his face. The man knew. He knew all these things._ Could it mean that he was right about her...? A son?_ He watched every man's movements in the room. The odds were slim, but he would fight.

The bearded man coughed this time.

"If it is true then we do not need to find him, do we? He would die with his mother tonight..." He chuckled darkly and gave Severus a vicious grin.

_Die? Had he made a mistake by following Donovan here tonight? What was happening?_

Severus's jaw hardened and a strange emotion crossed his heart. _Was it... fear? Fear?_

_Was he afraid? For the first time since Lily's death, he felt fear..._

It clamped his fast beating heart into the back of his chest.

**Fear? Guilt? RAGE?**

"Yes, he would die. In fact, he is already dead...as I speak." A pale man looked at his watch and murmured. "They must be done by now."

Severus's heart stopped for a moment. He remembered the stinging pain in his finger. That had been a genuine warning. _She had been in peril. Peril. Fear_.

He had failed again. Again.

_He had to find out. He had to go to Hogwarts._

The red haired man raised his wand and fired a red curse at him. Severus had noticed the movement and in the blink of an eye he swirled his wand and erected his strongest shield.

He had no time. He had to be quick.

He slashed through the air and fired three curses just as his shield was shattered and he was hit in the shoulder with a cursed flame. A low hiss erupted from his lips and he rolled over his back to the corner of the room. Two of his adversaries had been hit. The other four had taken their positions and were firing deadly curses at him at a rapid rate which he deflected with superhuman swiftness and intensity. A gap allowed him to hit the third man with a nasty entrails expelling curse. He screamed and knocked out another man who stood by his side as he fell backwards. For a few moments, Severus had only two opponents to face.

**Time trickled.**

Severus got up to his feet and slashed through the air once more in an octagonal pattern. A jet of green light missed his head by centimeters. But he was unconcerned. The golden curse that he had summoned left his wand and divided into two. It sped towards the two men and hit them squarely in their chests before they could do anything. It was a curse of his own crafting. It mutated and allowed him to attack multiple targets. It was not a fatal curse but it was painful enough. He did not want them to die yet.

He glanced around the room. All of them had fallen except for Donovan who cowered by the sofa in one corner. She had been trying to keep out of his line of fire. He waved his wand and petrified her. He stood there for a second. He_ needed_ to question these people. His discretion would no longer be necessary. The enemy had shown himself and attacked him. But he needed to apparate to Hogwarts as quickly as he could. He did not have time.

It was then that he thought of the enchantment he had learned of a while back when he had been reading the book on elemental magic. He crossed his arms and closed his eyes while concentrated on his magical energy.

_"Static sine cogitatione_

_Donec revertar constringitur"_

The room filled with a greenish blue glow.

They would stay captive and frozen till he returned.

He had to go. He had to leave.

Worry gnawed at his bones as he thought once more over what the men had said.

He had to hurry.

* * *

**AN: Please, please tell me if you like this chapter or if I should replace it with an alternate version that I have written. I am really confused. **

**Thanks to Lysaia, Atlantean Diva, Concrete63, Amar 2 and Kate. You guys are just wonderful in your continued support. I am truly indebted :) :)**


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